


Moulded From Clay

by Lady sans pitié (Madame_Charlie)



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Secrets, Gothic, Horror, Love/Hate, Mental Institutions, Other, Past (Forced) Pregnancy, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 108,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Charlie/pseuds/Lady%20sans%20piti%C3%A9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry Warren and his younger sister, Josephine, set upon Allerdale Hall for a promising business venture with Thomas Sharpe and his sister, Lucille. Relationships are challenged after Josephine and Thomas form a common bond. However, is it just a business ploy of the Sharpe's or is something pure possible to form from monstrous love?</p><p>                                   Beautiful things are fragile and some secrets are best left buried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fiction is inspired by Crimson Peak. I do not own the characters Thomas Sharpe and/or Lucille Sharpe. I have created new original characters for them to engage with/alongside, therefore altering the original story significantly. 
> 
> Please look at the tags and archive warnings before reading this story as it may be upsetting for some readers. Suggestions, comments or kudo's are welcome.

Moulded From Clay

Chapter One

 

It was late autumn when we first arrived at Allerdale Hall. I had grown increasingly depressed by the bleak barren landscape as we travelled further north. For many miles now the only terrain comprised of numerous untamed fields, long stretching muggy bogs and seemingly endless moors. This constant wilderness was so strange in comparison to the densely populated and crammed city of London where I grew up. The coachman informed us we were approaching the premises and I could not help but eagerly lean forward in my seat to see Mr Sharpe’s mansion gradually emerge across the otherwise isolated, mountainous area. I could only see the property from its side and it was partially speckled by a lightly falling snow. Nonetheless, there was something captivating about the way in which the mansion stood out boldly against the dusk evening sky. The land surrounding the property was steadily turning white from the falling snow.

‘See, this man is clearly authentic - just look at his house!’ my brother Henry exclaimed from where he was sitting opposite me, a smug smile appearing on his rounded face as he too looked out the window. He was dressed in a crisp brown suit though his blonde hair was slightly dirty. His rounded face was tinged with yellow that made him look slightly ill and his brown eyes were bloodshot. ‘This is a sure thing, Jo,’ he added, his thin lips pulled into a smile that barely covering his yellowing teeth.

I sighed, sitting back into my seat. ‘You promised to not rush into anything, Henry. We have much to discuss with Mr Sharpe before we agree to anything.’

Once again, I was calmly trying to remind my brother to be careful about where to invest our recently obtained profit from selling our old family home. Though we had explored promising ventures from businessmen across England, Henry was particularly swayed by those from Sir Thomas Sharpe of Allerdale Hall. Henry was persuaded by Mr Sharpe’s proposals to mine clay from his property, which was a highly profitable resource. Additionally, Mr Sharpe claimed to have the potential to transform the clay mining industry itself. However, my indecisiveness held the venture back. Mr Sharpe’s ideas seemed over-ambitious and could easily be a desperate lie to take our money. I finally agreed to at least meet Mr Sharpe and discuss his venture face-to-face before allowing my brother to sign any official deal. ‘We need to be certain. It’s all our money’ I reminded him once more.

‘We stand to become very wealthy if all goes as planned,’ he beseeched, leaning forward and gripping my knee tightly. His muddy bloodshot eyes gave him the sorrowful look of a basset hound. It would have been somewhat moving if it were not for the unmistakable burst of alcohol that surged forward as he leaned closer to me from his seat.

‘Henry, we need to be cautious,’ I pleaded quietly, trying to remain reasonable. ‘We need to be certain this man has a legitimate profitable idea!’

‘I am the one with the business degree, Jo,’ Henry snapped, suddenly sounding bitter. ‘I think I can sense a legitimate idea better than you!’

‘Yet with all that education, you possess so little common sense,’ I quickly retorted, trying to remain rational. ‘Who in their right mind would invest in a business without entering any direct discussions?’ I looked to the window to see the carriage pass through the gates of the premises. I sighed in relief, eager to escape the confinement of the carriage after our arduous journey. ‘I only want what’s best for both of us.’

‘So do I, Jo,’ Henry said, his voice wavering slightly. ‘I know things have been difficult between us for some time, but this is our chance to turn that around. If this is successful, we can return to what we once had, can’t we?’

‘We can never return to what we once had, Henry,’ I argued, my rationality fading and feeling a sudden rush of anger at Henry’s words.

Henry’s eyes darted quickly towards the door as the carriage came to a stop. ‘Please, Jo. We can start anew. I have a good feeling about this,’ he whispered, squeezing my knee even tighter. ‘If all goes well, I will care for you better from now on. I promise.’

I gripped his wrist and prised it forcefully off my knee. ‘Trust you after everything that has happened?’ I asked incredulously, letting myself out of the carriage as quickly as possible. ‘And I care for _you_ , Henry. I’m only here in this godforsaken place to stop you making another poor decision!’ I added before stepping out into the gravel driveway.

‘Lower your voice!’ he hissed behind me. I could see from the bulging veins protruding from his neck that he was livid. ‘Get back in here, Josephine! How dare you speak to me -’

I knew that Henry would make me pay for my outburst the moment we were alone again but trying to avoid his wrath for now, I quickly stepped around the back of the carriage where the coachman’s assistant, a young teenage boy was beginning to unload our luggage.

Henry emerged beside me as the boy unloaded the last of our luggage. ‘I do care for you,’ he whispered. ‘Who provides for you? Gives you a home and food? You ungrateful little bitch!’ The boy looked slightly frightened now and quickly hurried back to the carriage, which then departed leaving me alone with Henry. ‘The problem is you take my kindness for granted! From now things are going to chang- ’ Henry finally turned to face the mansion and his words trailed off. ‘My lord!’ he muttered more to himself than to me.

I followed Henry’s gaze, wondering what made him temporarily forget to be angry with me and was immediately struck dumb by what I saw. The mansion seemed to have doubled in length and height since I last stared upon it, as though it were a creature that only fully emerged as the night drew in. It loomed over me in an almost intimidating manner, yet there was no denying its exterior beauty. It was dark stone work set in gothic architecture, three stories high with one central tower and two taller towers flanking on its left and right. These taller towers had conical tops which gave it the subtle appearance of a small castle. Flying buttresses enhanced either side of the taller towers which extended the mansion’s sides into a north and south aisle. The many windows were in geometrical panes as to be typically expected in gothic architecture but they each had slightly different designs in their tips ranging from crosses to flowers. Yet as I studied it closer, it became clear that some of the mansion was in need of repair. The towers were chipped in many places and the top far left of the mansion appeared to be crumbling slightly, though it was hard to tell the extent of damage in the dwindling daylight.

My eyes slowly drifted to the manor’s double oak doors. Upon the stone steps in front of the double doors stood a dark haired man. His frame was slightly illuminated by the candle light escaping through the partially opened doorway. I guessed by his perfectly tailored suit that he was not staff, so he must be a member of the Sharpe family – perhaps Sir Thomas Sharpe himself? He was looking at us with the same slightly perplexed gaze we had upon staring at his house. I felt slightly uncomfortable, for how long had Mr Sharpe been looking at us?

‘Jo, please remember to behave yourself’ Henry hissed quietly, as though I had been making a scene. ‘Ah, Mr Sharpe, is that you? I hope we are not too early! We made splendid time on our way here! No carriages at all for miles around!’ Henry eagerly approached Mr Sharpe, grasping his luggage without so much as a backwards glance at me. He stumbled slightly in the gravel driveway as he approached and I had to bite down hard on my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud.

Henry made pleasant introductions with Mr Sharpe as I stood beside my luggage, feeling utterly useless as I waited for either man to remember my presence. My gaze flickered to the impressive mansion once more and immediately fell upon a feature I had not noticed yet. Set in the central tower of the mansion was a circular window, which appeared to be faded crimson, with a black core. It looked like a solitary crimson eye with an inky black pupil protruding out of the house. I stared almost captivated by this feature, until a sudden silhouette flashed across the window in a shade of deep red. I gasped, immediately stepping back, clutching my coat tighter around my chest as a sharp sudden wind rushed forth across the driveway, and with it came a great flurry of snow.

‘Hello, Ms Warren, I believe?’ said a quiet voice beside me. ‘Please, allow me to help you with your luggage.’  

I tore my gaze from the window barely looking at the speaker before looking at the house again. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his voice sounding slightly concerned. However my attention was still fixed on crimson eye once more, wondering what I just saw. ‘I thought…’ I mumbled, my voice trailing off uncertainly. ‘I must have been mistaken -’ 

‘Josephine, dear!’ Henry called impatiently from the double doors. ‘Hurry along. Mr Sharpe cannot wait in the freezing cold all night you know!’

‘Apologies, I was in a day dream. It’s been a long journey,’ I said quickly, trying to recompose myself as Henry’s voice broke across my minds wonderings. What I seen was merely due to a trick of the candle light on the stained glass or a member of Mr Sharpe’s family or staff passing the window. I tried to keep my gaze from Mr Sharpe, feeling slightly foolish as I went to pick up my luggage but Mr Sharpe reached it before me. He must be quite strong, as the trunk was rather heavy and I usually had to drag it along behind me but he lifted it easily with both hands.

‘That’s quite alright, Ms Warren,’ he said his voice barely audible above the wind. ‘Let’s get inside from this cold. After you,’ he said kindly and I passed him hurriedly, eager to get inside and out of the cold wind and snow. 

I followed Henry inside the house, who had set his trunk down just inside the door and was now shrugging off his snow flecked coat and hat. Mr Sharpe set my trunk down beside Henry’s as I removed my coat and placed it beside Henry’s. My attention was then captivated by the mansions entrance. The house was just as beautiful inside as it was on the outside, if not more so. The foyer in itself was impressively large. As I proceeded further into it, I discovered the most immediate striking feature was the dark wooden staircase that begun on the left side of the foyer and wound its way to the third floor in an almost dizzying manner. Countless framed paintings hugged the right wall as the stairs ascended, and the central section of the second floor staircase projected outwards to form a magnificent balcony.

‘It’s something else, isn’t it, Jo?’ said Henry by my right.

I nodded in agreement. ‘It’s beautiful’ I admitted.

‘Thank you,’ said a quiet voice behind me. ‘The house is currently undergoing some … restoration work,’ he added, nodding at the leaf strewn floor. Darkening leaves seemed to be collecting in every corner of the foyer and had been blown across the floor by the wind upon our entry, giving the house a rather untamed feel.

Mr Sharpe was now standing directly behind us with a rather apprehensive look on his face as though waiting for our approval. It was only now I took in his appearance for the first time. He was far younger than I expected. His ambitious ideas made me picture him as an older gentlemen with decades of experience in mining and engineering under his belt, but Sir Thomas Sharpe appeared to be in his early thirties. He had the look of someone who spent a great deal of time inside. However, his tall thin frame, porcelain skin and prominent cheekbones made him quite handsome. His hair was raven black and slicked back but a few curls were peeking out from the back. He had not removed his coat, which was a deeply dark green, his waistcoat appeared to be silk but jet black as was his cravat and trousers.

‘I don’t believe we have been formally introduced,’ he said stepping towards me. I immediately became aware of how tall he was, easily towering over my five foot frame. His voice was surprisingly soft and a warm smile was on his pink lips. ‘I am Sir Thomas Sharpe’ he said kindly. I extended my hand to Mr Sharpe to greet him with a handshake, but instead he gently caught my hand and bending slightly softly placed a kiss upon it.

‘It’s very nice to meet you at last, Mr Sharpe’ I said, feeling my cheeks blush slightly at the simple gesture. He straightened out and let my hand go.

‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you too, Ms Warren’ he said. ‘You and your brother are most welcome to Allerdale Hall. I expect you are tired after your long journey so we can leave business until tomorrow?’ he inquired, looking at Henry.

My eyes narrowed at Mr Sharpe in slight irritation ‘How thoughtful,’ I answered quickly, before Henry could even open his mouth. ‘However, it’s quite aright Mr Sharpe. We could discuss your ideas this evening. I’m sure Henry told you how keen I am to hear them.’

Mr Sharpe’s eyes flickered to mine but I continued to stare at him defiantly no longer blushing but determined. ‘Of course, Ms Warren,’ he said, still staring at me. I could not help but notice he had bright blue eyes that were looking at me in a slightly curious way. ‘Dinner will be ready shortly, but shall we discuss a few ideas before then?’

I nodded. ‘That sounds wonderful, Mr Sharpe.’

Mr Sharpe extended his arm and I took it with a soft smile. We crossed the foyer and entered the library where directly ahead a large fire burned away in the grate, in front of which was a seating area.

‘This is the library,’ Mr Sharpe said pointing to the left half of the room. The library had two stories of bookshelves in a seemingly never ending line. Even further down the room was a grand piano set against a window, which showed only the blackness of the night. I noticed dust and cobwebs webs on many of the shelves and quite a large dent on the otherwise dazzling ornate fireplace.

‘That’s quite an impressive collection, Thomas,’ Henry said, referring to the library and settling himself into an armchair as Mr Sharpe passed him a drink. ‘Jo, you must be in heaven right now!’

I barely heard Henry’s comment but instead was focused on the glass tumbler in his hand with a worried expression on my face. I shot him a warning glance, but Henry gave a slight sneer before knocking back his drink in one go.

‘Ah, are you interested in reading, Ms Warren?’ Mr Sharpe asked, passing me a drink and making no indication he seen Henry’s action.

‘Thank you’ I said, before I settled into an armchair nearest to the fire. ‘Yes, my father taught me how to read when I was little. It’s been a favourite pastime of mine ever since.’

Mr Sharpe nodded, refilling Henry’s drink once more who once again downed it in one shot. He looked at Henry in slight surprise but made no comment. He simply set aside the bottle of drink onto the table and joined us by the fire, sitting across from me. ‘Please feel free to use our library over your stay.’

‘Thank you, Mr Sharpe,’ I nodded. smiling at him. As I took in Mr Sharpe’s face by firelight I realised he had a slight purple-grey tinge under his eyes that suggested at a lack sleep.

‘What books interest you most?’ he asked, taking a sip from his drink, but still watching me in a curious way.

‘This and that,’ I answered, my gaze flickering to Henry who stood up and approached the table. ‘Anything really; thrilling drama’s, romances, even the odd horror. I – Henry, dear’ I called out trying to use my most reasonable tone as I watched him pour another drink, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. ‘Perhaps you should ask Mr Sharpe before you help yourself?’

Henry scowled at me, gripping the glass tightly in his hand before downing the third drink. ‘Josephine, _dear_ ’ he emphasised with a sarcastic smile. ‘Perhaps you should toddle along elsewhere? We are here to discuss business which is after all, a man’s field of expertise.’

My face flushed in embarrassment and I struggled to think of calm response in Mr Sharpe’s presence. Normally, I would have told Henry exactly where to shove his “field of expertise”, but could not do so in front of our new potential business partner.

Mr Sharpe cleared his throat and stood up quickly, his gaze flickering between Henry and I. ‘Well, I best discuss some of ideas with you then - both of you’ he added with an apologetic smile in my direction. ‘We should move into the dining room. Dinner must be ready now, unless … would you like to change first, Ms Warren?’

‘No thank you,’ I answered trying to keep a confident tone in my voice and make light of what had happened.

‘Follow me then’ he said, smiling a little awkwardly. I rose, settling my untouched drink down on the table before following Mr Sharpe.

The dining room was equally exquisite. It was a deep red colour with a large dark oak table that easily could sit twelve people. Mr Sharp pulled out a chair at the immediate right of the top of the table for myself. I sat down, feeling slightly surprised to be sitting next to him. The food was already laid on the table, covered with silver tops and waiting for all our guests to arrive before we began to eat. Mr Sharpe stood by a chair at the top of the table and Henry stood by the chair on my right, looking disappointed by the seating arrangements.

Mr Sharpe looked nervously down at me as though judging for my reaction as he had done when we entered the foyer. I wondered if he were used to entertaining guests at all. Perhaps living in such an isolated place made him a solitary man. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. ‘Your house is simply breath-taking Mr Sharpe,’ I said, smiling up at him warmly. ‘I am really forward to our stay with you. Who else will be joining us by the way?’

‘Thank you so much, Ms Warren. We really hope you enjoy your stay with us,’ he said, smiling warmly so that his blue eyes seem to sparkle. ‘My sister, Lucille, will be joining us tonight.’

‘I’m sure we will have a wonderful time. I look forward to meeting her,’ I said, hoping to make the man feel a little more comfortable in our presence. ‘And when will the others arrive?’

‘The others?’ he asked, a quick flicker of confusion showed on his face as he brows knotted. ‘What others?’

‘The others investors, Mr Sharpe’ I said, staring at him in equal confusion.

‘There are no other investors,’ he said, glancing at Henry. ‘I apologise, but I thought I made that clear to your brother.’

‘You did?’

‘Josephine,’ Henry started, gripping my shoulder in a seemingly light manner from where he stood beside me. I flinched involuntarily, knowing best to not start a fight now. ‘I told you. Do you not remember- ?’

‘Thomas, dear, aren’t you going to introduce me?’ a female voice interrupted in a clip manner. I looked around to see a woman with hair as dark as Mr Sharpe’s stand a little away from the dining area. Mr Sharpe’s gaze flickered between Henry and I once more before turning to his sister.

‘Lucille, this is Henry Warren,’ Mr Sharpe explained as Henry crossed the room to greet her. She extended her hand and Henry clasped it awkwardly with both of his own and shook it rapidly. Lucille looked at Henry in complete bewilderment as I fought off the sudden urge to laugh. I quickly glanced at Mr Sharpe, who merely licked his lips as though to stop himself from laughing too. ‘Ah, yes, and this young woman is his sister, Ms er- ?’

‘Josephine Warren,’ I smiled as I crossed the room to greet her. ‘It’s a delight to meet you.’ I gently leaned in to kiss either of her cheeks, but she took two quick steps back as if I shocked her. ‘Oh, I’m sorry’ I blurted out quickly. ‘That’s a custom in London, but I guess it’s not done here.’

‘No, forgive Lucille and I,’ Mr Sharpe said quickly, shooting a quick glance at his sister. ‘We are not from the city.’

Ms Sharpe extended her hand and I shook it before she quickly pulled it away and sat down. Baffled by her cold behaviour I sat down across from her, whilst Mr Sharpe began to serve the food, putting a little bit of everything on my plate. However, my attention was still focused on Lucille. She was equally as beautiful as her brother, with deep black hair that was in in an elegant knot at the back of her head. She also had his high cheekbones and porcelain skin, but now that I looked closer I saw faint scars on her cheeks and one particularly long one running down her neck, past the collar of her dress. I stared at them transfixed until I realised her dark eyes were staring at me coldly and I immediately looked away.

For some time there was only small talk, which was mainly Henry discussing our journey here. Mr Sharpe seemed a little uninterested, but smiled politely and gave the occasional nod to show he was listening. Gradually we got on to discuss Mr Sharpe’s business venture. According to Mr Sharpe, he believed there to be a vast amount of untapped clay beneath his house, which if properly extracted, stood to be a very lucrative business. He explained how he had built his own mine to access this resource when I immediately cut across him.

‘You built your own mine?’ I asked, the awe in my voice unmistakable.

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘It took a while to work out the precise design – you know measurements and the like. It’s entirely my own invention and a departure from the traditional clay mine. But I believe it could completely revolutionise the clay mining industry across England.’

Lucille looked at Thomas with nothing short of pride in her eyes. ‘Thomas is quite the engineer and craftsman,’ she said, her eyes darting to mine. She was suddenly smiling, which dramatically changed her demeanour at once. She looked warmer now, happier.

‘It certainly sounds like it,’ I answered, admiring Mr Sharpe’s intelligence. He spoke with such passion and expertise that I know longer questioned his honesty. ‘You seem like quite the scholar!’

Mr Sharpe beamed at me, a slight pink tone flushing his cheeks which sent a rush of warmth throughout me. There was something quite adorable about this man.

Lucille grasped Thomas’s hand tightly. ‘He has always been a genius,’ she said, her smile gone now. I could not help but stare at her grip on Thomas’s hand, was she gripping him in a proud supportive way or protectively?

‘Anyway,’ Mr Sharpe answered, looking suddenly flustered. ‘We need further investment and that’s where you and your brother come in.’

‘We’d be happy to- ’ Henry suddenly boomed. I was surprised by how silent he had fallen, but quickly realised he had been helping himself to more wine from. I gripped his arm to attempt to stop him from speaking further and from drunkenly agreeing to any deal.

‘Well, it sounds fascinating in theory, but perhaps we could tour the mine tomorrow and you could talk us through the idea more? ’ I asked Mr Sharpe, with a quick glance at his sister.

‘Jo knows best,’ Henry suddenly blurted draining the last of his glass.

‘That sounds like the best course of action, Ms Warren,’ Mr Sharpe answered, clearly ignoring Henry’s remark.

‘Yep, well that’s me put in my place then, hasn’t it?’ Henry slurred, reaching for the now empty wine bottle.

I smiled a little in embarrassment before turning to Henry. ‘It’s been a long day, Henry. I think we should all be heading to bed.’

Mr Sharpe immediately stood up as I got up from the table. I thanked both him and his sister for a wonderful dinner before looking at Henry.

‘Come on, Henry,’ I added, trying to make my voice as light as possible.

Henry eventually dragged himself up from the chair and took my arm in his. He wobbled slightly and I gripped him tighter.

‘Why don’t I show you both to your rooms?’ Mr Sharpe asked.

I smiled gratefully at him and bade goodnight to his sister before we made our way slowly out of the dining room. Henry was leaning heavily against me so I had to walk slowly. ‘Mr Sharpe and his sister got it all right, don’t they Jo?’ he said as we reached the foyer.

‘Henry, please,’ I begged, knowing this might be crossing a line with Mr Sharpe who had not said a words since we left the dining room. Insulting Mr Sharpe’s family was going too far, even for Henry.

‘No I’m not givin’ out ‘bout ye’ he added, hiccupping loudly as Mr Sharpe turned to face us. We had now reached the stairs in the foyer. Mr Sharpe’s face was expressionless and I felt a pang of shame as Henry hiccupped again even louder. ‘I just mean your sister is quiet and knows her place. But mine … well you’ve been hearing her all evening. Think she knows better than us men, huh? Stupid bitch,’ he added, his eyes going slightly out focus.

Mr Sharpe’s eyes were rounded blue orbs for a second before he suddenly gripped Henry’s cravat and dragged him forward up three steps of the stairs. His sudden burst of hostility completely caught me off guard. ‘Mr Sharpe, I’m so sorry! Ignore him, he just had too much to drink- ’

Mr Sharpe was barely listening. ‘You should go to bed!' he spat at Henry. His soft tone had vanished so quickly that that I was startled. He let go of Henry’s cravat and instead took him by his arm as I had done and dragged him at a much faster pace up the stairs. I followed behind warily, as Henry kept mumbling apologies to Mr Sharpe. ‘Sorry, sorry. Just jokin’ he said, hiccupping slightly. ‘Jo and I just tease…don’t we, Jo?’ I merely nodded following behind, feeling embarrassed. I tried to focus instead on many framed paintings on the walls, which were covered in a fine layer of dust. I noticed the paint on the walls had faded and chipped away the further we climbed up the stairs, so much so that by the time we reached the second floor, the original dark blue-green colour of the walls had completely peeled away into a dirty golden colour.

Mr Sharpe turned slightly, the weight of Henry still slumped largely against him. ‘You’ll be staying down here, Ms Warren,’ he said, his voice once more soft. Before I could meet his stare I turned away and merely nodded in response, feeling utterly mortified by Henry’s behaviour.  

I stepped forward across the second floor landing to follow Mr Sharpe down the hallway. It was a long hallway, with gothic arches at regular intervals, however the exterior of each arch had triangular edges, which looked eerily like rows and rows of razor sharp teeth from where I stood. Trying to block this image from my mind I followed Mr Sharpe down the hallway. Finally we reached the end of the hallway and Mr Sharpe had paused at its left side by a closed door. ‘Would you be so kind?’ He asked quietly, nodding to the door. I rushed forward and opened the door and Mr Sharpe half pulled Henry into the room. I watched Mr Sharpe quickly deposit Henry into his bed and walk out without another glance. I quickly checked on Henry to see was he alright and found his eyes were half-closed and he was still whispering apologies. Sighing, I followed Mr Sharpe out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Mr Sharpe stepped directly across from Henry’s room to another closed door. ‘This is where you’ll be staying, Ms Warren,’ he said and opened the door whilst standing aside to let me pass through first. I stepped in to the room, noting it looked quiet cosy despite the original grey stone exposing underneath peeling wallpapers. There was a large four poster bed in the middle of the room from which hung crimson velvet curtains. The window and curtains were closed but I could hear the wind howling outside. A bright fire burned away in the fireplace in the far side of the bedroom. ‘I hope everything is to your liking?’ he asked. Again he seemed to seek approval for the state of his house and it made me feel even guiltier about Henry’s behaviour.

‘It’s perfect, Mr Sharpe’ I answered with a soft smile.

He smiled a little shyly before continuing. ‘Your luggage has been brought up,’ he said and pointed to my trunk beside the bed. ‘There is also a bathroom, just through that door,’ Mr Sharpe explained, now pointing to the door on my right. ‘There should be plenty of warm water should you choose to draw a bath before bed. I can draw one if you like?’ he offered and it was immediately followed by a deep blush on his porcelain cheeks. ‘I mean, just for you, of course … Or perhaps, my sister would be more appropriate to draw you a bath? Shall I call her?’ he asked, looking suddenly mortified.

I tried not to laugh at the embarrassed blush on his cheeks, which made me feel inexplicably happy. ‘No, it’s alright, Mr Sharpe. I can draw my own bath’ I answered with a smile. ‘You are far too kind. Especially considering brother’s behaviour,’ I added quietly. ‘I am so sorry- ’

‘It’s he that should be apologising to you. He should not call you such names,’ his smile fading.

‘He’s called me much worse,’ I retorted quickly, without thinking. Mr Sharpe looked so concerned by this that I quickly continued ‘He was so nervous about this business prospect. I think it’s why he was a little over zealous with the drink – you know for a little liquid courage.’

For a split second Mr Sharpe looked angry but his face broke into a smile so quickly, I was sure I must have imagined it. ‘I understand. I was nervous myself. Truth be told, I am not used of entertaining guests and I also really wanted this to go well.’

‘Do you think it has so far?’ I asked with a hint of amusement.

He grinned. ‘Well, I suppose it could have gone worse.’

I laughed in response. ‘With a beautiful home like this you should entertain guests more often. I’m sure many would make trips from London to stay in a house such as this. With a bit of practice you could be a great entertainer.’

His cheeks blushed a pale pink again, sending warmth through me once more. ‘It may need to be spruced up a little first.’

‘I did notice,’ I admitted quietly. ‘Overall it’s stunning, but … I imagine this business of yours may help you restore the house?’

He looked surprised by my blunt honesty, but gave a slight nod. ‘We try to do as much as we can, but it’s an old house that needs constant upkeep. Lucille and I would love to see it fully restored.’

‘She seems very protective of you,’ I suddenly blurted out.

He paused slightly as though deeply considering his reply. ‘She is. And I am of her. Our parents passed away when we were very young so we are quite close,’ he answered.  

I was surprised by his openness, his blue eyes seemed clouded by some memory. ‘Our parents have passed away too,’ I found myself saying, wanting to comfort this man by sharing our similar backgrounds. ‘My mother died in childbirth. My father and sister passed away two years ago in an accident.’

Mr Sharpe looked saddened by this and I quickly hurried on to explain. ‘What I mean, is that I understand what is like to solely rely on a sibling. It can be challenging. I feel responsible for Henry now, even though I’m the youngest. He has never really been the same since my father and sister passed.’

For a while neither Mr Sharpe nor I spoke, then quite suddenly he stepped closer to me, clasping both my hands in his own. His touch was warm, as was the look in his blue eyes. I felt quite vulnerable before him. Mr Sharpe seemed to know what it was like to only rely on one person, understood how trapped that could feel.

He was standing so close to me now and we were alone. I stepped closer to him, my green eyes staring into his blue ones. I had a sudden desire to lean upon him, to rest my head against his chest and feel his arms around me, to feel his touch on my skin. To be not just needed, but _wanted_. His eyes stared down at me, again seeming to be thinking of what to say very carefully before he opened his mouth. ‘Does he- ’

‘Jo? What are you doing?’ a sluggish voice interrupted. I looked up and saw Henry at door. He looked slightly woebegone, with his bloodshot eyes and wearing a now crinkled suit. Mr Sharpe immediately let my hands go and stepped away from me.

‘Just saying goodnight to Mr Sharpe, Henry,’ I answered, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

‘I need to talk to you alone,’ Henry snapped. ‘Mr Sharpe, would you mind?’              

Mr Sharpe looked between Henry and I. ‘Perhaps it could wait until morning? I’m sure you and Ms Warren are very tire- ’

‘No, it has to be now,’ Henry said defiantly, but with a forced smile. ‘Goodnight Thomas,’ he said, ending the matter.  

Mr Sharpe nodded curtly at Henry before turning to me once more. ‘It was wonderful meeting you, Ms Warren,’ he said kindly. I looked away unable to meet his gaze. ‘I look forward to discussing my venture more with you tomorrow.’

I smiled and bade him goodnight as he shut the door quietly behind us. Henry waited until he heard Mr Sharpe’s footsteps retreat up the hallway. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’ Henry demanded, turning on me, his brown eyes livid.

This night was far from over.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Not long after sunrise the following morning there was a sharp tap on my door. I was already awake by now and had thrown back the curtains a little while ago to look at the falling snow from where I was currently curled up in bed.

‘Ms Warren?’ Ms Sharpe called from outside my door. ‘Breakfast is ready for you downstairs. Please join us in the kitchen as soon as you are ready.’

I had barely opened my mouth to answer when I heard her footsteps retreating back up the corridor. What a strange, cold woman was all I could think before getting up slowly and sitting at the side of my bed, wearily rubbing my sleepy eyes.

It was slightly chilly in the room, the fire finally having burned itself out at some point during the night. I shivered slightly as my bare feet skimmed the wooden floor and looked outside the bedroom window. It was still snowing though not as heavy as it had been last night and the wind seemed to have cried itself out for now. For a few moments all I could do was stare outside the window from where I sat on my bed, lost in my thoughts about last night. The events of the previous night meant I did not sleep until the early hours of the morning so I was exhausted.

Some twenty minutes later I entered the dining room and sat down by the right head of the table. Henry stood up as I entered the room, setting down what appeared to be a detailed map that he had been studying on the table. I kept my gaze focused on the wall ahead of me as I entered the room, only quickly glancing around before noticing that both Mr Sharpe and his sister were absent.

‘Ms Sharpe sends her apologies,’ Henry started as we both sat down at the table once again. ‘She said she was up very early and had already ate, but that she will dine with us at lunchtime.’

I merely nodded in response, removing the silver cover from my breakfast to find a slightly cold bowl of porridge and rock hard toast waiting for me. I started eating in silence aware of Henry watching me.

‘Jo?’ he asked hesitantly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I looked up at him, trying hard not to cry under his stare. Henry looked so different from last night, calmer for instance and a lot more focused. His muddy brown eyes looked apologetic but they were still slightly bloodshot – they had been permanently so for some time. ‘About last night…I just – you know what I’m like when I drink. I – I’m sorry.’

For a second I considered grasping the knife I was using to butter my toast and ramming it into Henry’s face. Sighing, I sat the knife down, afraid if I held it any longer I might just do that. ‘You came into my room last night to – to dole out punishment,’ I whispered back, unable to keep my voice trembling. ‘Yet all I get is sorry - again?’

Henry’s face fell into even deeper concern, not before he glanced around the dining room as though to make sure we were completely alone before he continued. ‘You know how I get in social situations. And when I drink I – my emotions get a little carried away. Did I hurt you much?’

I merely stared at him, one eyebrow raised in a ‘what the hell do you think?’ motion. ‘Would it hurt if I did the same to you?’ I asked, trying to remain calm. ‘Had Mr Sharpe seen you, god knows what could have happened.’

‘I know, Jo,’ Henry said, his voice sounding oddly cracked as though he were on the verge of tears. ‘I feel terrible. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I mean it this time.’

I did not answer, after hearing this promise so many times before I really did not feel the need to dignify it with a response.

‘I promise Jo,’ Henry vowed, perhaps realising the futility of this promise he had made so many times before. ‘I won’t.’

‘Ms Warren!”

I looked up to see Mr Sharpe, dressed in a similar suit as last night though the purple tinge under his eyes suggested he had slept no better than I had. However, far from looking disgruntled he was positively beaming as he sat at the head of the table. ‘How are you this morning? I hope you forgive my sister and I, but we are early risers and had our breakfast some time ago.’

‘I’m very well, thank you,’ I answered, tying to read his expression but he merely smiled at me before he became busy looking at the map Henry was pursuing when I came in. I realised now that it wasn’t a map at all but a detailed design of a mine. ‘That’s quite alright, Mr Sharpe.’

For a while there was silence, both men were deeply engrossed in the map in front of them and I idly picked at my breakfast as I watched them. Mr Sharpe gave no indication of Henry’s behaviour last night. He also seemed unaware of what Henry had done once he left us alone, which was a slight relief for at one point I thought I heard footsteps right outside my bedroom door. Yet Mr Sharpe seemed to have forgotten our moment last night – if you could call it a moment. Perhaps I had misread the situation entirely as he seemed unaware of my presence right now at all. Feeling slightly hurt I forced my attention to the matter at hand - the mine -  for the sooner we saw it the sooner we could reach a business decision and then leave this place for good. It seemed to bring out the worst behaviour in Henry whilst making me feel so vulnerable and exposed.

‘Let’s get going then, shall we?' I asked, causing both men to look up suddenly.

Mr Sharpe’s gaze finally fell onto mine and I kept my expression as blank as possible. ‘To the mine,’ I reminded him with a hint of impatience in my voice.

‘Yes, of course, Ms Warren,’ Mr Sharpe quickly responded. ‘But you have hardly touched your breakfast. Was it not to your liking? I’m sure we can make- ’

‘No,’ I answered rather firmly, standing up. Henry and Mr Sharpe quickly followed suit. ‘It was lovely’ I lied, keeping my voice falsely cheery. ‘However, I’m not particularly hungry.’

Mr Sharpe looked at me slightly perplexed before Henry cut across whatever he was going to say.

‘Let’s go then, chaps,’ Henry said, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

I quickly followed Henry without a backwards glance at Mr Sharpe to gather our coats, hats and scarves before going outside. By the time we reached Mr Sharpe again in the foyer he was wearing a warm coat, scarf and hat also, but also a slightly apprehensive expression.

‘Ms Warren, are you sure you are alright?’ he asked, as we approached. ‘You seem a little peaky? Did you sleep alright? This house takes some getting used to, I'm sure.’

‘I am fine,’ I answered, meeting his stare. 

‘You can stay here if you want,’ he continued. ‘It’s warmer and I’m sure you’d be more comfortable.'

‘Mr Sharpe, I am perfectly fine,’ I answered, my voice firm. ‘Please, let’s go.’

Henry laughed suddenly. ‘Thomas, dear man, she’s as stubborn as a mule,’ he said, still laughing and opened the door. ‘Just leave her tag along.’

We spent that entire morning and a good deal of the afternoon examining the outside ground where a vast mining rig had been set up outside the premises that seemed to reach deep underground under the house itself. Whilst admittedly, I knew very little about engineering or mining it was clear that Mr Sharpe had invested a great deal of time and every bit of money he had into the project. Henry, who had some experience in engineering was positively delighted by Mr Sharpe’s mine, which was the first of its kind. Mr Sharpe explained what he planned to do with the money we were considering to invest by discussing what other equipment he needed. By the time he had finished explaining and demonstrating what he needed to buy out of our potential investment the snow was falling thick and fast upon the ground and I was growing increasingly colder.

‘Oh dear!’ Henry exclaimed as he removed his pocket watch from his coat. ‘It’s well past lunchtime! Perhaps we should head back inside for a late bite and afterword’s you can show me those clay vats in the basement, Thomas?’

‘My apologies! I lost track of time,’ Mr Sharpe called out, his voice louder than normal in an effort to carry it above the wind. ‘Of course, after you Henry.’

Henry immediately launched back towards the mansion and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him eagerly bound through the snow. I doubt Henry had ever missed meal in his privileged life and he reminded me of when he was a boy, simply dropping his toys at the sound of the dinner gong and rushing downstairs like his life depended on it.

‘Ms Warren, might I have a word with you?’ Mr Sharpe called from behind me. I realised he had made no attempt to move back to the house. He was standing still in the swirling snow, as though he were a marble statue on the grounds itself.

‘Yes, Mr Sharpe, of course,’ I took a quick glance at Henry who was still working his way back to the house. I approached him warily. ‘What is it?’

Mr Sharpe studied me closely for a moment before answering. ‘I hope I did not get you into any trouble last night with your brother.’

I could feel a slight colour rise in my cheeks. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘He seemed a little … disturbed. I understand he may have been unhappy about the two of us alone in a room together in such a … compromising position.’

I couldn’t help but snort with laughter. ‘Mr Sharpe, we were holding hands, at best,’ I answered, unable to keep the slight disdain from my tone. ‘Besides, as your back was to Henry he did not even see that. So, do not worry, your reputation as a gentlemen remains perfectly intact and that "compromising position" will not risk affecting our potential investment in your mine,’ I added, unable to keep the hurt from my voice before turning around to go back to the house.

However, my arm was quickly grabbed by Mr Sharpe who none-to-gently tugged it so that I faced him once more. ‘Your investment wasn’t my concern,’ he said, looking slightly troubled now, as though he were internally struggling with sharing something.

I shrugged my arm out of his grasp and took an immediate step back from him. ‘Then what is, Mr Sharpe?’ I asked trying my best to remain polite.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his brows knotting as they had done last night when he was concerned.

‘I am fine, Mr Sharpe,’ I answered quickly, yet sharply. ‘Please stop- ’

‘You’re lying to me,’ he said so quietly I barely heard him. Though his eyes were almost smouldering now, seemingly angry by my ambiguity.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked, growing ever annoyed by his over-interest in my welfare.

He stepped closer to me again, both his hands resting on my arms as he looked down at me. I was surprised by his sudden boldness ‘Henry’s right, you are stubborn. I understand he's your brother and that you want to protect him, but I need to kn- ’

‘Why do you need to know anything about him?’ I asked suddenly. ‘You’re not exactly forthcoming about your sister, are you? It’s clear she does not want us here. She only wants our money.’

Mr Sharpe’s eyes narrowed all of a sudden, his blue eyes grew cold, like frost. ‘My sister has nothing got to do with this,’ he spat out.

‘With what?’ I snapped, feeling irritated now as though he and I were talking about two very different things.

‘With us,’ 

‘Mr Sharpe, there is no us,’ I answered after a few seconds of silence in which my heart seemed to skip a beat in my chest. ‘We know each other less than twenty four hours.’

He tilted my chin up gently with one of his hands so that I was looking into his blue eyes, which were sparkling in a calmer way now. ‘We were about to kiss last night before he walked in,’ he murmured in his softest tone as though he were shy of saying these words aloud.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as I stared up into Mr Sharpe’s eyes. He was gripping my shoulder with his other hand rather firmly. I could not shrug his grip off of me, nor, to my surprise, did I want to. The close proximity of his body sent a rush of warmth throughout me that contrasted with the swirling falling cold snow around us and made me shiver.

‘I – Mr Sharpe,’ I answered unable to tear my stare away from his blue eyes. ‘This cannot happen.’

‘Why not?’ he asked, his eyes seem to be probing mine for an answer.

‘I – I,’ I babbled on, mentally deliberating whether to tell him the truth or, at least, part of it. ‘You do not know me,’ I finally answered. ‘Or my family. We are somewhat … damaged.’

Mr Sharpe did not look troubled by this as I expected him to, but amused. ‘So is mine, so believe me, I can handle it,’ he answered, with a slight smile. ‘I only ask that I get to know you.’

I wanted to say that I wanted to get to know him too. I wanted to say to hell with our damaged family’s and run away together like the characters in so many novels I had read but reality kept me firmly rooted to the spot. This was the nineteenth century and women did not do such things.

‘Mr Sharpe, I think you have been living in isolation for a very long time with only your sister for company,’ I answered and he immediately let go of my chin and looked as though I had slapped him. His blue eyes suddenly turned glassy as they filled with tears and I felt my heart tear at what I was about to do next. ‘I think you are a lonely man looking for any type of new relationship with any type of woman,’ I continued trying to be gentle, yet firm. I leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek gently, his skin was so soft, so cold, I had the resist the urge to keep kissing him, or from wrapping my arms around him. He touched the spot where I kissed him with his gloved hand, his glassy eyes continued to look at me incredulously. ‘However, I am not the right woman for you.’

I immediately turned and walked away from Mr Sharpe, my eyes filling with tears as I went. I noticed Lucille watch me approach from the double oak doors and felt a twinge of apprehension mixed with my tremendous sense of guilt.     

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Henry ate his late lunch ravenously as though he were a man who were half-starved. Therefore I knew he was blissfully unaware of my encounter with Mr Sharpe. Normally I would have found Henry's childlike table mannerisms somewhat funny in such a formal setting, but right now I was in too low spirits to do so.

Ms Sharpe ate in silence, but unlike Henry gave a clear indication that she had seen some part of my encounter with Mr Sharpe. Every so often she would glare directly across from me in complete disdain as though I were another eyesore in her impressive mansion.

However, my attention was not really focused on Ms Sharpe or on Henry, but mostly on Mr Sharpe. He had barely spoken since returning to the house. Though his sister briefly tried to talk to him as he came in the door, I heard him brush her off quickly. He now was seated at the top of the table, his eyes solely on his plate and ate in silence. I felt a horrible sense of guilt for dismissing Mr Sharpe so quickly and bluntly. Though I knew it were the best course of action in the long run, I still felt remorseful for hurting this man’s feelings - he had, after all, behaved courteous and hospitable to Henry and I.

‘Well, we best see those clay vats, Thomas my lad,’ Henry declared when he finished eating at last. ‘Before the afternoon slips away from us.’

Mr Sharpe merely nodded in response, setting down his knife and fork. ‘As you wish, Henry. It’s rather cold in the basement so you may need to wrap up.’

Henry and I both stood up at the same time to retrieve our coats when Mr Sharpe held out his hand in my direction. ‘Ms Warren, where are you going?’ he asked, finally looking up at me. He looked quite composed now, his eyes no longer glassy. However he was not smiling, his face showed no warmth or friendliness at all which made him strikingly resemble his sister. Even his eyes, which were normally a serene blue seemed darker now and for some reason they reminded of a dark stormy sea.

‘I’m going to get my coat, Mr Sharpe,’ I answered, trying to mimic his blank stare. ‘I’ll only be a moment. Why don’t you go ahead and I can join you down there?’

Mr Sharpe shook his head, ‘Apologies, Ms Warren, but I am afraid I cannot allow that.’

I felt my face grow slightly pink at his sudden bluntness and cold response. ‘Excuse me?’ I asked, aware my voice was rising slightly. Was his sudden cold attitude my punishment for rejecting his feelings?

‘The vats are no place for a woman,’ he said, quite calmly, he sat back into his chair and looked at me quite politely, with the tiniest feign of regret in his eyes. 

For a second there was silence. I looked at Mr Sharpe as my face started to grown even more red, not out of embarrassment but sheer anger. He was trying to punish me, he was also trying to see in what manner would I deal with it. Trying to remain composed I responded, ‘I think I can handle journeying to the basement’ my mocking tone unmistakable.

‘I’m sure you can,’ Mr Sharpe answered in a condescending tone as though he were speaking to a child. His lips twitched slightly as though he were enjoying my reaction. ‘However it is unsafe down there. I would hate for anything bad to happen to you.’

‘Yet I joined you when we toured the outside mine,’ I spat out through clenched teeth.

‘A fact I deeply regret,’ Mr Sharpe nodded, though he was smiling in a slightly scathing manner. ‘You could have caught your death out in that cold and I would never have forgave myself. The vats are also dangerous - clearly not the place for women. I suggest you stay here.’

‘Well I suggest otherwise,’ I answered, resisting the urge to slap his smirking face.

‘Jo,’ Henry interrupted quietly, his eyes flickering in concern between Mr Sharpe and I. ‘Perhaps it will be best. If Thomas deems it unsafe then we best not take the risk.’

‘You’re going with him,’ I pointed out flatly.

‘You should really be more subservient to your brother,’ Ms Sharpe suddenly interrupted, her cold dark eyes narrowed in a delightful sneer. ‘The men have more experience in these things than either you or I, therefore they should visit the vats alone. We will stay here and chat, Ms Warren.’

‘Subservient?’ I hissed, my eyebrows rising so high they were in danger of disappearing into my hair as my gaze flickered between the three people in front of me.  

‘Subservient,’ Mr Sharpe repeated as he stood up so that now his frame easily towered over mine. ‘It means you should behave more…’ he paused thoughtfully, ‘docile.’

Henry nodded before leaving the room to get his coat. I looked at Mr Sharpe in utter disbelief before he quickly turned away from me and left the room also. For a while I was left in silence, my mind whirling true what just happened. Was this cold bitter man the real Mr Sharpe, or was he merely punishing me for not responding positively to his advances? If so, he were no better than Henry. Yet Mr Sharpe seemed largely amused by my actions as though he wanted to make me mad. But why? To provoke me into an argument?

My thoughts were soon broken by a strand of music flowing in through the dining room. I immediately looked to Ms Sharpe for an explanation but she had left leaving me completely alone in the dining room.

I quickly entered the library to the source of the noise to find Ms Sharpe at the very far end of the room by the window playing the piano. The tune was one I had not heard before. It was simple yet for some reason gave me goose bumps the closer I got to the piano.

The music quickly stopped as I approached and Ms Sharpe gazed at me rather intently. I wondered whether to fight with her about her attitude at lunch or simply let it go. I only had two more days left in Allerdale Hall before Henry and I returned to London. Surely I should just place nice? After all I had no real problem with her, only that she seemed odd it cold. It was her brother who truly who baffled me.

‘You play beautifully,’ I commented walking towards the piano where she sat warily as though I were approaching a cornered wild animal.

‘Thank you,’ she replied rather stiffly, setting her hands in her lap.

‘I – I never heard that piece before,’ I added.

Her cold eyes pierced with a penetrating stare. ‘It was – is – a lullaby,’ she answered quickly. ‘I composed it myself. As we are alone, I would like a word with you about my brother, Thomas.’

Nodding curtly as though I were expecting this I came closer to where she sat, but my stomach twisted uncomfortably. ‘What about him?’

‘I saw you two earlier,’ she said, her sharp eyes making me feel rather vulnerable before her. ‘You both were talking and then you kissed him- ’

I frowned slightly as clearly whatever Ms Sharpe had inferred from her observations was not exactly incorrect ‘I was - ’

‘You kissed him on the cheek,’ she continued, not allowing me to speak. ‘I do not want my brother hurt. By any one. Especially by a city woman with no morals. Do you understand me?’

My mouth fell open at this before I quickly tried to address at least one of her accusations. ‘I’m not – I have – I do not wish to hurt Mr Sharpe.’

‘Yet you kissed him and seemingly fought with him too,’ Ms Sharpe retorted. I opened my mouth to speak once more but again she continued to drown me out. ‘I saw you both. Do not play games with my brother’s emotions, Ms Warren, or you and your brother's visit will be cut very short’ she said with a certain degree of finality that suggested I leave. 

I stared at her in shocked silence for a second, amazed at how threatening she sounded. I felt a prickle of fear at her words and merely nodded in response, swallowing thickly before I turned away. I left as Ms Sharpe started to play her piano once more, the sound echoing eerily behind me. I could feel her eyes upon the back of my head as I eagerly escaped into the foyer away from her threatening demeanor.

Not knowing what else to do I spent the afternoon in my bedroom. I managed to start a fire once more in the grate sensing that tonight was going to be exceptionally cold. I was too restless to sleep and knew I would inevitably end up upset if I dwelled too much on Mr Sharpe and his odd, harsh sister. Therefore I whiled away the rest of the afternoon reading. As the sky darkened I also lit a few candles and it was many hours later before the silence in my bedroom was broken by a quick tap on the door.

‘Ms Warren?’ a male voice called out quietly. I recognised it instantly as Mr Sharpe’s. Briefly I considered ignoring the voice but knew that would merely be childish.

Sighing I reluctantly answered, ‘Yes?’

‘May I come in?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ I answered, though truthfully I did not want to see him right now.

He entered the room almost cautiously as though wary of what state I might be in. He seemed slightly surprised to find me sitting upright and reading.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Sharpe?’ I asked in my most polite tone.

He approached the bed slowly. ‘I wanted to check on you to see if you are alright.’

I raised my eyebrow questionably before marking my page and closing my book. ‘Is that all?’ I queried, knowing he could have sent Henry to check on me if that was the case.

‘You did not answer my question,’ he said, eyeing the book in my hand.

‘Technically, you haven’t asked one,’ I answered, rolling my eyes and handing him my book, knowing he was curious by the glint in his once more calm blue eyes.

‘I am also to inform you that dinner will be ready shortly,’ he added, smiling a little nervously as he took my book. ‘ _A Vindication of the Rights of Women,_ ’ he murmured, reading the shorter title aloud. ‘By Mary Wollstonecraft. I think I’ve heard of this. It’s supporting equality amongst men and women, am I correct?’

I nodded. ‘You should read it,’ I snapped, standing up from the bed.

Mr Sharpe looked slightly taken back before answering. ‘May I borrow it then?’

I merely nodded again. ‘Be my guest. Now if you don’t mind, Mr Sharpe, I would like to change before dinner.’

Mr Sharpe stood there briefly for a moment, tucking away the book in the breast pocket of his dinner jacket before his blue eyes lingered over my frame. They were no longer dark or cold, but filled with sincerity ‘I hurt you earlier, didn’t I?’ he asked.

‘I-I just don’t understand you,’ I blurted out suddenly, keeping a steady glare upon him. ‘One moment you seem charming and say you wish to know me better, the next you grow cold and insult me.’

‘I-I admit I was ... hurt by your rejection of me,’ Mr Sharpe said, seemingly shrinking before my glare. ‘I just wanted to see if I could – I don’t know, bring out that boldness in you. If your brother or Lucille saw we had a connection, of any kind, they may see the spark between us. Then maybe they could encourage my courtship of you,’ his eyes looked big and wide now, so much so he seemed to appear younger before my eyes, almost innocent.

‘I had already said no,’ I answered, finding it hard to stare into his eyes as I spoke so I instead focused on staring at the candle perched on a shelf behind him .

‘But you feel it too, don’t you?’ he asked with a certain level of desperation in his voice. ‘The spark between us?’

I swallowed thickly before answering. ‘As I already told you, Mr Sharpe, it cannot happen. And please do not deliberately try to taunt a response out of me again or you may not like the consequences. Likewise, please tell your sister to stop threatening me.’

‘I’m sorry - Lucille threatened you?’ he asked, his tone sounding slightly concerned. 

My heart faltered at his tone, yet I have heard apologies too many times before. I had heard faked tones of concern too. ‘ Indeed she did. She seems to think I aim  to seduce or pursue you. Please tell her otherwise. You should leave now, I must change before dinner.’

‘But I want -’ 

‘Please leave, Mr Sharpe,’ I repeated, now meeting his stare again. ‘I understand what you did. It’s done, so please forget about it now.’

Yet he still remained adamantly in front of me, refusing to leave. ‘I will simply change in front of you,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘I wonder, would that taunt you? You did after all deliberately attempt taunt me, Mr Sharpe, should I do the same?’

His eyes widened at this and I couldn’t help but smirk a little as Mr Sharpe’s cheeks blushed. He was a strange man, deeply mysterious one moment yet innocent the next.

However he remained steadfast in my bedroom, clearly he did not believe me and was attempting to call my bluff. I was starting to sweat lightly now, I had not thought this through. Meeting his blue eyes I raised my hand to undo the top button of my dress, almost provoking him in the same way he had done with me earlier. I do not know why, but there was something exhilarating about his reaction – it was addictive and I both hated and loved his presence in my bedroom. His eyes grew even wider as I undid the top button of my dress, and then the next and then the next. His eyes were oddly panicked as though uncertain how far I would take my teasing and yet the more buttons I undid the more his gaze flickered and lingered to my chest.

However the sound of footsteps quickly broke our interaction. Someone was humming tunelessly as they walked down the corridor – Henry, I soon realised. Immediately, my shaking fingers fumbled to button back up my dress until Henry simply slammed his door shut, no doubt changing before dinner.

I exhaled just as Mr Sharpe stepped closer to me. He seemed to have regained his composure for now, though his tongue darted out slightly as though moistening his lips as my breathing deepened at his close proximity. There was nothing mysterious about his expression now as he did up the last buttons, he looked almost hungrily at me. I could only stare at him and when his tongue darted out I inhaled sharply at the inexplicable rush of desire it sent through me. I expected his fingers to linger, to perhaps accidentally graze my breast, but they did not. He stepped away and looked at my disappointed expression with a slight smug smile. ‘Look who just proved themselves _docile_ after all’ he whispered as he buttoned the last notch on my dress. 'I apologise for Lucille. She is merely overprotective.' He stepped away from me and left the room in silence. Damn it, he had gained the upper hand, my attempt to taunt him for a reaction had backfired and once again he had subtly insulted me.

I changed quickly unwilling to allow my mixed emotions for Mr Sharpe to cloud my judgement about our business arrangement. Feeling a steely determination rise within me I entered the dining room with an air of confidence I rarely possessed. _Docile, I'll show him docile._  Both Henry and Mr Sharpe were present in the dining room as I approached and stood up as I entered.

‘Ms Warren, you look enchanting this evening!’ Mr Sharpe exclaimed. ‘Please sit down. Lucille will be here with the champagne shortly and then we can eat.’

‘Champagne?’ I queried looking between both men in confusion. 'Are we celebrating?'

‘Jo, dear,’ Henry said looking at me warily. ‘I’ve decided to go ahead and invest. I signed the deal earlier with Thomas!’

I felt my heart pounding in my ears at this statement. ‘You did? But that was all our savings, Henry. You promised you would consult me before agreeing to anything,’ I was surprised by how calm my voice sounded in comparison to blood now boiling angrily away in my veins, my confidence plummeting. How dare Henry agree to such a huge deal without consulting me first?

‘I thought you would be on board,’ Henry said quietly, suspecting my calm manner was worse tidings than if I were to yell at him. ‘You heard Thomas’ plans and saw part of the mine. Everything is legitimate Jo, it just needs funding.’

‘That’s why you didn’t want me down in the clay vats with you, wasn’t it? I asked, my attention solely focusing on Mr Sharpe now.

He seemed to be gaging my reaction quite calmly from where he stood at the head of the table. ‘I did not coerce Henry into anything. In fact, he insisted himself that he sign after seeing the vats. I never- ’

‘So all of this was a lie?’ I queried, unable to keep the rush of mixed emotion from my voice as I stared across at him. ‘That’s why you were courteous one moment and why you were … different the next,’ I swallowed thickly, trying to choose my words carefully in front of Henry.

Henry laughed. ‘Jo, Thomas is a businessman. All this wining and dining is part of business,’ Henry explained, clearly misinterpreting my words. ‘Being charming or inviting is just a way to indulge potential clients.’

For a moment I wanted to tell Henry what had happened, but I seemed unable to tear my gaze away from Mr Sharpe, ‘You just wanted our money,’ I continued, my voice shaking with the pain of this realisation. ‘If your charm didn’t work you would get it by manipulating people’s feelings or behaving cold with the mannerisms of an insolent child!’

‘No!’ Mr Sharpe answered, looking deeply troubled. ‘No, Ms Warren, I-’

I could not bear to look at him and dared not give him the satisfaction of crying right in front of him. I calmly went to the opened drinks cabinet at the side wall of the dining room. I pulled out the first glass bottle I saw, which upon opening judged to be whiskey and poured three glasses out.

‘Wait for the champagne, Jo!’ Henry exclaimed.

I fixed a smile in his direction. ‘I simply cannot wait.’ I joined the men back at the table, handing the first glass to Henry who beaming took it, passed another to Mr Sharpe who was watching me intently and held another up myself. ‘A toast!’ I exclaimed, with a wide forced smile. ‘To good hospitality!’

‘Hurray!’ Henry boomed and down his drink in one go.

Mr Sharpe raised his glass as I raised mine, my eyes never leaving his face. He drained his glass slowly as I then drank mine in one go.

‘How about another?’ I queried as Henry nodded adamantly beside me.

I fetched the glass bottle of whiskey before joining the men at the table again and filled each of our glasses once more.

‘Jo, dear!’ Henry asked, a delighted smile on his face as I poured him another shot. ‘What on earth has gotten into you?’

I merely smiled and then turned to Mr Sharpe to pour him another shot before pouring one for myself. I set the whiskey bottle down on the table before raising my glass once more. ‘Just behaving how you’ve always wanted me to, Henry dear, and of course how Mr Sharpe expects me to be … subservient, you know … _docile,_ ’ I explained raising my glass once more and chinking it with Henry’s before doing the same with Mr Sharpe who was watching me with an unfathomable expression on his face. ‘Speaking of which,’ I continued, as I watched Mr Sharpe take a sip of his drink. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you Mr Sharpe. Another drink perhaps?’ I snapped at him. ‘Or maybe I could remove your shoes and socks and give a nice foot massage?’ Henry laughed, clearly thinking I was joking, but I looked at Mr Sharpe in utter sincerity. ‘That’s what you want isn’t it? A nice _docile_ woman,’ I emphasised. ‘To do as you say, be misled by you, perhaps allow herself to be solely devoted to your orders? Or maybe I should take a more traditional female role, hmm? Perhaps knitting by the fire, or maybe barefoot, pregnant and busy in the kitchen making your supper?’

Henry choked on his drink. ‘Josephine!’ he cried out aghast.

‘Ms Warren,’ Mr Sharpe mumbled, looking deeply concerned with his brow knotted, his voice sounding constricted. He looked lost, his blue eyes glued to me as though he were struggling to find the right words. ‘I didn’t mean - ’

‘Excuse me,’ I said, barely listening, having drained my glass I set it on the table. ‘I have a headache. I hope you don’t mind if I skip the champagne and dinner? I know you two boys probably have much business to discuss anyway and I would hate to get in the way.’

Mr Sharpe reached for my arm as I passed him and I merely forced a smile at him once again. ‘Ms Warren, I didn’t- ’

‘Congratulations on gaining your investment, Mr Sharpe,’ I said calmly as my eyes filled with tears, even as I tried to keep them at bay. ‘Goodnight.’

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, 
> 
> Just a quick warning that this chapter departs from the previous ones in that it explores explicit sexual scenes and scenes of a scary nature. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all those leaving kudo's and comments! Your feedback is most welcome! X

Chapter Four

I immediately turned away from Mr Sharpe, unable to stay in his presence for a moment longer.

I heard Henry make excuses for my behaviour as I left. ‘… she was always a little feisty, Thomas, my lad,’ Henry explained. ‘I could have a word with her about her behaviour if you like?’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Mr Sharped quickly retorted, suddenly sounding venomous, which caused me to temporarily freeze on the spot. _Could he possibly know exactly what Henry was capable of?_   ‘I-I mean… she is quite a passionate woman,’ he added, sounding brisk and unperturbed once more. ‘Perhaps you should have told her before you signed the agreement?’

 _Of course, he was merely concerned about his business again and not me._ I fought the urge to turn around on the spot and argue with both men about their separate hurtful behaviour, but decided against it. To retaliate right now would only add further insult to my wounded pride. Instead, I calmly continued on once more as though I could not hear them.

Once out of their sight, I darted through the library and crossed the foyer as quickly as I could, my small heels clipping across the expansive marble floor. I took the stairs two at a time, not giving a damn that I probably looked like I was a tantrum throwing child sprinting up them, my face flushed with anger and hurt.

However, once I reached the second floor landing I immediately stopped. Though slightly out of breath I still felt the same eerie feeling as I did when I first looked down the corridor last night. 

I could not help but feel a prickle of fear and uneasiness as I looked down the narrowed tooth-like archways of the corridor. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I was unaccompanied, but the semi-darkened hallway looked more disturbing than ever now, like a beast ready to poise on the next soul who ventured down the corridor on their own. This feeling was enhanced by the lighting of the hallway, which was dimly lit by one or two candles but grew shadier further down until the razor sharp archways became swallowed up by darkness. I stood rooted to the spot and unable to tear my gaze away from the daunting appearance of the corridor until I heard a noise from the floor above me of the slight screech of a door opening followed by a creak of a floorboard.

Believing this to be Ms Sharpe about to join the others downstairs I fled down the corridor, trying to be as silent as possible, instinctively knowing I would rather escape into the beast-like dark hallway than spend a second under her cold stare. I paused when I reached the end of the corridor outside my bedroom door to see her passing as she went down the stairs though her footfalls were eerily silent. I could see her dark frame illuminated by the candles at the front of the corridor. She stopped to stare down the second floor corridor just as I did, which made me shiver involuntarily. From my view she seemed oddly distorted, her silhouette entirely black, no doubt a trick of the candlelight at the top of the corridor. I swore that her shadowed face seemed to focus on where I was standing in the complete darkness _._

_Surely she could not see me? Surely it was just my imagination?_

Seconds trickled by in silence as she continued to stare down the corridor until a horrible thought crossed my mind; _what if that figure wasn’t Ms Sharpe at all, but someone else?_ This figure seemed taller than Ms Sharpe and thinner, almost emaciated as her dark dress hung limply off her body in a drab fashion and her long dark hair flowed freely to her waist and seemed to billow slightly behind her as though caught in a breeze. Now that I thought of it, I had only ever seen Ms Sharpe wear her hair in a tight bun. I stood there frozen in fear, though why this woman scared me so much in this moment I did not know. Finally she turned and continued down the stairs, her steps still eerily silent. I did not move again until I waited for her to ensure she was further down the stairs.

My eyes still focused up the corridor as I pressed my back to the bedroom door, my hand blindly groping for the door handle, until I eventually found it and finally let myself into my bedroom. I quickly shut the door behind, panting heavily as though I just run for miles.

 _It was a trick of the candlelight, that’s all,_ I repeated over and over again in my mind. I was so distracted by the actions of Mr Sharpe and Henry that I simply was not thinking straight. Of course it was Ms Sharpe, wearing her long hair down, perhaps that was a custom in these parts of England. And she wore a different styled dress which made her look taller and more willowy. Yes, that was it.  _Of course it was Ms Sharpe, for who else could it be?_   This damn house had me feeling so vulnerable, so exposed and oddly frightened. I wanted to go home. Yet I felt silly for allowing myself to get so frightened. 

My mind wandered back to Mr Sharpe once more as I lit more candles in my room and fed the fire another log. Perhaps his sister was in the dining room right now telling both her brother and my own how I fled down my corridor and stared upon her like a frightened mouse? That sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt through me once again. I could picture them clearly now, toasting their glasses of champagne and ringing in their business venture whilst mocking Henry’s ‘fiery’ sister. It was hard not to get emotional at this, so I tried to block the image from my mind. I slipped on a nightdress and quickly climbed into bed, shivering slightly. It was much colder this evening and I was quite glad that I had a blazing fire in my bedroom. I curled up and faced the window where I hoped I could see snow falling but all I could see was blackness, and all I could hear was the mournful howling of the wind. Soon I grew restless and considered reading but then realised Mr Sharpe had taken the only book I had managed to bring with me. I briefly thought of going downstairs to the library to pick out one from Mr Sharpe’s impressive collection but could not bear the thought of overhearing their celebrations. My thoughts then wondered as to why Henry had not come up to scold me for my behaviour yet, but realised he was probably enjoying the surplus of whiskey and champagne with the others. My stomach grumbled loudly, but I had no choice but to ignore it. I turned my gaze onto the fire and after some time I grew drowsy watching the flames dance and crackle until my eyes finally closed and I gave into sleep.

 

 

I shivered violently, the heavy blanket doing nothing to abate the growing cold seeping into my very bones.

 

_‘Darling, are you still cold?’ a deep, yet soft voice asked from behind me._

_I nodded once in response, curling up deeper under the blanket trying to warm myself from the chill by nesting into the blanket. I felt a warm arm reach over and pull me closer, my back plush against their front. His arm lay across my waist, making me shiver once more, though for an entirely different reason. I heard a stifled laugh in response, as though he sensed how my entire body tensed the moment I felt his arm around me._

_I turned around to face him, my eyes still slightly glazed over in a sleepy daze but a deeply content smile on my face nevertheless. My eyes immediately found his bright blue ones, which twinkled with an almost roguish desire. His black hair was no longer neatly swept back with oil but fell freely in thick curling locks, of which a few strands were idly straying across his face. I reached my hand out from under the blanket and slowly tucked the few free strands back behind his ear._

_He immediately caught my wrist and held it tight, with a slight lascivious smile emerging on his face. ‘You are positively freezing, my love,’ he said, his voice barely carrying out over the crying wind from the outside window. ‘Hmmm, how about I warm you up?’ he murmured softly lightly pressing my wrist too his mouth, his warm lips pressing a soft kiss right upon my pulse._

_My breathing quickened at this simple action, causing him to laugh once more. “I don’t thin-‘_

_‘- Then don’t think,’ he interjected sharply, his tone suddenly turning rough. ‘You want me. I know you do. And I want you. Why do you deny yourself?’_

_‘We can’t,’ I answered, though my voice trembled. ‘I told you already … we just can’t.’_

_‘Then say it with conviction!’ he snapped, suddenly tearing the blanket off from us. I made to scramble away from him, but he quickly straddled my waist, resting either knee by my hips._

_My pupils were blown wide by his sudden burst of energy, his movements so quick and confident that I simply lay there in silent awe. I only now noticed he wore no shirt, thus exposing his porcelain chest that was lightly flecked with dark hair, a slim line of which trailed vertically down his stomach but disappeared beneath his dark trousers. The feel of his weight against my middle sent an inexplicable rush of desire through me. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to fight every raw animal urge that charged through my body. My mind was still torn between desire and reality, but it was a losing battle. With my free hand I roughly tried to push him off of me whilst also trying to sit up right. However after a few moments of silent struggling, it became apparent that I could not move him, nor did I want to. Touching his skin sent jolts of pleasure throughout my body, yet I struggled all the more, half vainly attempting to push him off, half seeking more contact against his skin._

_‘Stop,’ he said quietly, gathering both my wrists so easily with one hand and pinning them above my head. ‘Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.’_

_I struggled all the more now, utterly overwhelmed by his strength, by how easily he held down my body with his hips and how he pinned both my wrists so securely above my head. He easily overpowered me, he could do absolutely anything to me, even hurt me if he wished, and how would I possibly stop him?_

_My eyes must have alerted him to my sudden apprehension. ‘I won’t hurt you, Josephine. I promise, I will never hurt you, ever.’_

_I immediately stilled my actions, realising his grip on my wrists was light. I could easily slip through his grasp if I wanted. He was giving me a choice. I lay there panting and confused. Why give me a choice?_

_‘Do you want me to leave?’ he asked, his blue eyes not leaving my face,_

_I did not answer. I merely continued to stare at him_

_‘Answer me, Josephine,’ he said, in a slightly rougher tone._

_A few seconds of silence and then. ‘No,’ I whispered._

_His face lit up in a brilliant triumphant smile as he let my wrists go. Without saying another word his lips found their way to my neck and pressed numerous gentle kisses down it, until reaching my collarbone. My now free hands tentatively began to roam across his back, my breathing becoming heavier. He slowly tugged down the front of my lace nightgown as he seemingly drank in the sight of my partially exposed and rapidly rising and falling breasts._

_I felt his body stiffen as he hungrily continued to stare at my breasts. He suddenly looked up at me, a maddening smile on his face, before I felt his lips crash against mine roughly so that I opened my mouth in a surprised gasp which he solely took full advantage of and slid in his tongue. Without thinking, without so much as pausing to adjust, I was kissing him roughly back our tongues entwined in an urgent demanding kiss. My hands seemingly holding onto him for dear life, he tasted sinfully good – I wanted more. One of his hands paused at my left breast, lightly tracing over the lace fabric then reaching just above where it was partially exposed before gently kneading it causing me to moan wantonly._

_‘Josephine,’ he whispered his deep voice a mere breath by my ear. He sat back lightly against my knees to unzip his pants and every last bit of my resistance melted away as he hurriedly pushed them down. I eagerly helped pull down his pants and underwear, my hands roaming over his tight ass, causing him to emit a deep rumble from his chest, almost like a growl._

_I watched as he stroked his semi-hard cock into full hardness. His eyes flickered to mine and they seemed to burn in a blue flamed stare. ‘Look what you do to me, Josephine,’ he said hoarsely, his voice nearly fully consumed by lust._

_I let out a soft whimper, my hips automatically twitching underneath him. He grinned at me, lose black curls once more falling across his face, his hands went to ether of my thighs and gently began to push up my nightdress. ‘What shall I do to you, Josephine?’_

_I knew by the proud smirk on his face that he could literally sense my burning desire grow stronger as his hands rose higher up my thighs. ‘Shall I eat out your cunt first or fuck you so roughly you’ll be feeling me for days?’_

_I gasped, unable to believe he was saying such explicit acts that seemed so erotic when coming from his mouth. One of his hands lightly traced my knickers and he laughed. ‘Oh my. Are you so wet for already, my sweet dove? I've only barely touched you yet.’_

_My hips seemed to buck of their own accord, desperate to feel his continuing touch of his fingers pushing against my outer lips through the fabric of my knickers, which sent a thrill through me such that I never experienced before. He continued until I heard a loud keening sound. It took my mind some time to realise it was coming from my own panting, writhing body._

_‘Thomas,’ I begged, desperate for him to continue._

_He laughed and slowed his actions causing me to whine in frustration._

_‘Ms Warren,’ he said slowly, the blue glint still burning in his eyes._

_‘Please Thomas,’ I whispered my eyes rolling into the back of my head. ‘please.’_

‘Ms Warren?’

I merely shook my head in response.

I felt a warm hand grip my shoulder and shake it gently. ‘Ms Warren, wake up!’ I heard a man call softly.

My eyes flickered opened to see Sir Thomas Sharpe standing before me, one hand gripping my shoulder the other holding a single candle holder, which gave out a hypnotic flickering flame. For a second, I merely watched it captivated and slightly confused, before looking back up to Mr Sharpe whose frame was flickering in the light of the candle. We were standing on a dark, cold corridor. I straightened up to face him better noticing my hand had been against the wall, as though I had been scratching at the wallpaper. My nails and fingers were stained in a dark colour.  

‘I-I,’ I babbled, feeling suddenly lightheaded, staring at my fingernails transfixed. _How the hell did I get here?_

‘Ms Warren, it’s alright,’ Mr Sharpe whispered and gently grasped one of my hands. ‘Your hands are just blemished by the wallpaper - some of them are stained by emissions from the clay mine. I - I think you were scraping at when you were sleep walking.’

I blushed, realising I was wearing nothing but my nightgown whilst Mr Sharpe was wearing a black cotton dressing gown over his pyjama bottoms. ‘Sleepwalking?’ I queried, my voice sounding oddly choked as I looked him over.

‘Yes, I thought I heard someone come up the stairs,’ he answered in a low whisper. ‘I came to check and found you here on this corridor. I think you were having a bad dream, it took me a moment to wake you.’

I blushed even harder at this and felt myself tremble from head to toe. _It wasn’t exactly a bad dream, so why had it troubled my sleep so much?_

Mr Sharpe immediately removed his dressing gown. ‘You’re so cold,’ he whispered as his hands skimmed the back of my neck as he placed it around me shoulders. ‘Let’s get you back to your room. It wouldn’t do to be caught here so late.’

Mr Sharpe gently placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me down the corridor. I walked slowly, my head low unable to keep the sense of shame from sinking in. _Sleepwalking? Of all the things…surely Mr Sharpe thought me strange now. Not that I cared of course…yet my dream indicated otherwise._

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ he whispered kindly as we paused on the landing. It was then I realised we were on the third floor of the house as I could see the splendid projected balcony jutting out from the second floor beneath us. I had not been up here yet but it had a slightly more weather-beaten feel than the rest of the house. I could also feel more leaves scattered around the floor as I walked and from the glimpses of walls and paintings I could see, they looked damaged and severely decayed or crumbling.

‘Does anyone sleep on this floor?’ I asked, my voice still shaking.

‘My sister, Lucille,’ Mr Sharpe answered looking slightly troubled in the candlelight. ‘Which is why I think we should move back downstairs.’

Shivering slightly I nodded in agreement and followed Mr Sharpe down the stairs and into the second floor corridor. The teethed archways did not seem so intimidating now with Mr Sharpe by my side. We walked quietly until we finally approached my bedroom.

Mr Sharpe opened the door slowly and closed it softly behind us. I stood feeling rather lost as Mr Sharpe tended the low burning fire. After a few moments he managed to have it crackling merrily away in the grate once more.

‘Come,’ he said simply, one hand extended as he stood in front of the fire. I approached him warily, for some reason unable to disobey his commanding tone of voice. I sat in front of fire slowly, pulling Mr Sharpe’s dressing gown tighter around my shoulders. I felt icy cold, my teeth were even chattering.

Mr Sharpe sat down beside me and stared at me as I defiantly looked into the fore. I did not want to look at him. I did not know what to say. Would he be mad by my actions? Fortunately he spoke first.

‘How long have you been sleepwalking?’ he said, his voice still whispering softly as though we still feared we were being over heard.

I shrugged and continued to stare into the flames of the fire.

‘Please answer me,’ he whispered.

‘I haven’t done so in a long time,’ I whispered back, my eyes fixed on the flame, not sure why I was even answering him. ‘Please, don’t tell Henry,’ I added, finally chancing a quick stare into Mr Sharpe’s eyes.

‘You have my word,’ he answered, studying my features closely. He did not seem mad by my sleepwalking or even irritated, instead he looked curious.

I let out a low, dull laugh, ‘Yes and that means so much coming from you, Mr Sharpe,’ I replied sounding more like my old self. 

‘I swear to you, Ms Warren, Henry signed the agreement out of his own free will. I did not coerce him to in anyway,’ Mr Sharpe said hurriedly as though deeply troubled by my scathing tone.

I shivered once again. ‘I do not wish to talk of this right now. I’m tired,’ I mumbled and slowly stood up. ‘Thank you for coming to get me. But I really just want to sleep now.’

‘Is there anything I can get for you?’ he offered quietly, standing up beside me.

‘No, really, thank you. I just want to sleep,’ I answered, my voice still soft as I climbed into my bed, desperate to sleep and hide my confused feelings under a duvet.

‘I hope you sleep well,’ he whispered as he watched me climb into bed.

‘Mr Sharpe?’ I asked suddenly and he immediately stopped and turned to face me once more. ‘What were you doing up so late anyway?’

He smiled a little nervously. ‘I am a night owl. I so happened to be reading that book you let me borrow when I heard you pass my door.’

‘I hope you’re finding it useful,’ I added before I could stop myself, a coy smile on my lips.

He grinned again. ‘I truly am. Goodnight, Ms Warren.’

‘Goodnight Mr Sharpe,’ I whispered and watched as he left the room and closed the door gently behind him.

For awhile I lay back on my bed feeling torn between my sleepwalking and Mr Sharpe. For surely the two must be related? My previous late night wanderings were during an immensely difficult time and now it arises once more when my mind and heart are torn between Mr Sharpe. Perhaps in some ways we were right for each other. However with our siblings depending on us, it would never work. Especially with Mr Sharpe’s sister. I was glad she had not found me tonight sleepwalking and scraping at the wallpaper.

 _And just what was that stuff I had seen on my hands anyway? Was it really clay deposits on the wallpapers? If so why, even in a sleepful state, would I try to scrape it off the wallpaper of the third floor?_ I gently prised my hands out from under the blanket once more, realising as I did so I had forgotten to give Mr Sharpe back his dressing gown and that it was still draped over my shoulders.

However that suddenly seemed irrelavant now as I stared at my crimson fingers, which so easily looked like they were stained by now dried in and nails deeply embedded by blood.

 

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

I could not fall asleep that night until I had washed away every last trace of the red stains from my hands. No matter what Mr Sharpe said, the scarlet stains looked more like blood to me than residue caused by his clay mine. Allerdale Hall and its occupants was growing increasingly eerie in my eyes. There was something about the atmosphere here that not only induced my past behaviour and evoked disturbing memories, but was also tainted by a sense of unnaturalness. Mr Sharpe, his sister and this house were shrouded in a cloud of darkness that seemed to grow more suffocating with every hour I spent here. I admit, I had been so blind sighted by the presence of the charming Mr Sharpe that I overlooked my uneasiness upon my initial arrival but now, I was deeply tense. In fact, for the first time in years I was scared, though if this was fear of the house or of the Sharpe’s themselves, I honestly did not know. A part of me wanted to knock on Henry’s door right now and plead with him to leave as soon as dawn arose, but then I would inevitably have to tell him why I was uneasy. _How could I possibly explain that the house seemed unnatural, but not elaborate on why it was so? How could I confess that I felt ill at ease in the presence of Ms Sharpe, yet was drawn to her similarly isolated, intelligent brother for reasons I did not fully understand yet myself? And finally, how could I mention that I was sleepwalking again after all the trouble it had caused in the past?_ I dare not bring up the past. I only had to stay here one more night, what harm could that do?

Eventually, I washed my hands until they were bright pink and icy cold, but finally free of the crimson taint. I climbed wearily back into bed once more, trying to rationally convince myself that all my uneasiness was down to my unfamiliarity with the north. Its customs, traditions, people and even homes were different from London, that’s all. I yawned and curled deeper against the sheets. Just one more day with the Sharpe’s and one night. I still had Mr Sharpe’s dressing gown wrapped around me. His scent reminded me of soap, clean parchment paper and a hint of a deep smoky smell. It was oddly soothing, I found, as I started to doze. _He was a good man_ , I think… I closed my eyes, yet my mind only seemed to focus on him once again.

_His deep look of concern on his face as he found me wandering on the third floor in my sleep. His eagerness to keep me warm and guide me back to my room. I vaguely wondered if he knew of my dream. Oh dear, perhaps I was talking in my sleep too? Did he dream of me as I did of him? Stripped of clothes, writhing beneath him, a light sheen of sweat on our naked bodies, perhaps I was making him plead in his dreams…the sound of him begging my name was beyond arousing…perhaps I could tease him…touch and coax his body into a sweet melody of deep, desperate groans as he continuously begged for release. What sweet torture…_

A loud creaking noise woke me from my sleep. I released I was sweating profusely, my dream obviously stimulating every nerve in my body, yet I barely noticed as I heard another smaller creaking of the floorboards by the end of my bed.

 _There was someone in here with me_ , I thought frantically.

My body stilled completely, desperately fearing and anticipating another creak of the floorboards or maybe even someone touching me where I lay on the bed. I opened my eyes slightly and saw the room was mostly dim, a single flame of a candle on my bedside table burned lowly. My duvet was curled up around me and I was nested in it. I could partially see the wall across my bed, slightly brightened by the dim candle light. The fire, which kept the room reasonably well lit and warm was completely extinguished now, yet Mr Sharpe had only added a log to it surely not more than an hour ago. I had only been asleep for what felt like minutes so how the hell had the fire burned out so quickly? I realised I was holding in my breath and let it slowly, shakenly. Every hair on the back of my neck seemed to be standing upright as I heard the floorboard creak to the side of my bed.

_Someone was here with me._

_Something was here with me._

Every muscle in my body was paralysed with fear now as I felt a breeze flutter at the back of my neck and across to where the candle was on my bedside table. My eyes seemed to be frozen wide open as they watched the single candle flame’s dance on the wall across from me.  

Then I saw it, a black shadow seem to rise above my own lying and slightly shaking silhouette. It was a woman’s shadow, similar to the one I had seen earlier stop outside the second floor corridor that I convinced myself was Ms Sharpe.

This was not Ms Sharpe.

This was a tall woman with long, straggly, knotted hair that billowed behind her. She was willowy – no she was emaciated. Her neck seemed so brittle, so shockingly thin as though she was decaying as much as certain parts of the mansion itself where. Her dress hung limply off her tall narrow frame and she was leaning over me, seemingly watching me where I lay. _Why?_ I watched her shadow raise a long skeletal like hand above my frame as she bended lower towards me. I closed my eyes tightly, my shaking hands slightly tugged the blanket up around my face, like a child hiding from what it perceives to be a bedtime monster.

 _Just a dream, Jo_ , I pleaded in my mind. _Time to wake up, Jo. Come on woman, wake up NOW!_

Another flutter of breeze, much colder this time, crossed my neck, causing me to shiver. The candle flame that broke through my eyelids flickered and swayed violently and suddenly went out. With the single remaining candle light now extinguished the room was plunged into complete darkness.

That was it for me, the final straw that caused me to snap upright. I tossed the quilt aside as quickly as I could and bolted across the darkened room. I knew someone was behind me. I could feel it.

By the time I reached the door, I knew whoever was with me was no longer frozen as though startled by my sudden energetic outburst but moving as I could hear the floorboards creak again. My trembling hand struggled to find the doorknob in the darkness. Finally, I found it twisting it sharply and bolting from the bedroom and up the narrow, darkened corridor without a backwards glance. I heard no one follow me, yet I kept running up the corridor, across the massive landing and down the staircase, my nightgown and Mr Sharpe’s dressing gown fluttering around me. A few candles were lit here and there on the walls as I went down the stairs, for which I was grateful as otherwise I risked falling and breaking my neck. Finally I reached the foyer and breathed a sigh of relief. I was holding on to the bannister, whilst grasping a stitch on my side, panting heavily and shaking so that I did not hear him approach. _Was that a very bad night terror_ , I thought as my heart beat frantically, _or did that just really happen?_

‘Ms Warren?’ a low voice queried so suddenly that I gasped and jumped back. ‘What has happened? Why are you out of bed again? Shall I get your brother?’

Mr Sharpe tentatively reached out to grasp my hand, but I pulled away from his touch. He was standing in dark pyjamas, his dark hair tousled but otherwise awake and alert looking.

‘Don’t get, Henry,’ I whispered, my eyes finding his. ‘Just…a bad dream. I needed to ... get out. Please, don’t tell Henry about this.’ _It must have only been a bad dream, my overactive imagination muddling my dream into reality as I woke,_ I thought. _For no emaciated women had followed me._ _That makes night terrors and sleepwalking all in one night._ I grasped the bannister tightly. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Mr Sharpe stared at me, his blue eyes scanning my face with curiosity. ‘As you wish, Ms Warren. I was just in the kitchen making tea. Would you like some?’

I nodded and followed him across the foyer as he led me to the kitchen. My heart was still bearing rapidly, yet my fear lessened as I walked along side Mr Sharpe. For some unfathomable reason, I felt safe by his side. When we reached the kitchen, I heard a kettle whistle quietly. I watched as Mr Sharpe busied himself with making tea. I had not been in the kitchen yet. It was large as the other rooms in the house but was only partially lit by a few candles. It was chilly in here, more so than the rest of the house. I took a seat on a wooden stool at a small, scrubbed and worn looking wooden table and looked around. The marble floor seemed chipped and crumbled in places, the walls seemed white, yet were tarnished in orange/red colour in various places. Perhaps they were also tainted by the clay mines? I saw an elevator shaft to the side of the kitchen and wondered if that was how he accessed the clay vats in the basement.

Mr Sharpe approached with a tray and sat across from me.

‘Do you ever sleep?’ I asked as he poured me a cup of tea from a slightly tarnished silver teapot. I was glad to find my voice was normal once more.

He grinned at me before pouring his own cup of tea.  ‘I could ask the same of you.’

I smiled reluctantly, busying myself with adding milk and sugar to my tea. Mr Sharpe, I noticed, added neither.

‘I usually do sleep, but I was engrossed by that book you so kindly let me borrow,’ he added, tapping the book on the table I only noticed was there now. ‘Which, all things considered, has worked out rather well for you, I think.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, a slight blush rising on my cheeks.

‘Well that’s the second time tonight you interrupted my reading,’ he said simply, but he did not looked annoyed by this. Instead he looked amused.

‘Sorry for the inconvenience,’ I mumbled quietly. I gripped my cup of warm tea tighter with both my hands.

He grinned even wider at this, his eyes slightly crinkling at the corners. He suddenly looked younger, utterly carefree and downright _jolly_. My heart seemed to skip a beat at this sudden change. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said, still smiling, before drinking his own tea. ‘I like this. Having you here. You’re … different. You bring a different energy into the house.’

‘Why Mr Sharpe, anyone would think you actually like me if they heard you speak right now,’ I replied, aware I was blushing even darker now.

‘I do like you.’

‘Yet you treat me kindly one minute and grow cold the next,’ I quickly retorted, looking at him with a piercing narrow glare. I was not about to forgive him that easily. ‘Not to mention manipulating my feelings so you can take our money to invest in your bloody mine.’

‘That’s not true, Ms Warren!’ he snapped sounding suddenly impatient. ‘I did not manipulate your feelings. If you liked me– as I like you - then that feeling was real and mutual between us. It was not a ploy to take your money. Frankly, I would not be foolish enough to even try and con you for any of your family’s money. You’re far too smart for that.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr Sharpe,’ I snapped, yet a playful smile crept onto my features most unwillingly.

‘Which proves my point, Ms Warren,’ he said, smiling once more. ‘Pretty words are not enough to fool you. Henry pleaded with me to sign the agreement the moment we were alone in the clay vats in the basements- ’

‘Which he would not have had the chance to do had you not forbidden me to join you both!’ I exclaimed, my voice echoing slightly through the kitchen as I felt a ripple of anger wash through me.

‘Very true, and I deeply am sorry for that,’ Mr Sharpe agreed, his voice calm and quiet. ‘And as I already explained, it was a childish rouse to anger you and to hopefully instil in you that we have a connection. The first part of my plan worked at least,’ he added, a single eyebrow raised slightly as though goading me to laugh.

I bit my lip and looked down. ‘You had no right- ’ 

Suddenly I felt Mr Sharpe’s hand encase my own around my cup of tea. The action was so gentle yet filled my heart. ‘I know I didn’t. I am so sorry.’

I reluctantly pulled my hands out of his grasp. ‘Don’t apologise. Henry and I will be leaving tomorrow. You have our money. We made our investment. I’m sure Henry would have agreed to it in the end anyway. No harm done,’ I said quietly.

Mr Sharpe looked crestfallen. ‘I truly like you, Ms Warren. I like your energy, your feistiness, your intelligence, your wit and your beauty,’ he whispered. ‘I would rather a unique woman like you leave here with all your money than with a low opinion of me.’

I blushed once more at his words which seemed to cause my heart to swell with a rush of affection for him. Mr Sharpe meant well, but he did not know me. He thought I had all of those qualities, but I did not. He would only leave if he knew what I really was. I could only stare down at my interlocking hands on the table. ‘It’s not just you I want to leave here.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, sounding slightly apprehensive.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing. I am tire- ’

‘Don’t, Ms Warren,’ Mr Sharpe said, sounding slightly impatient again. ‘Don’t do this again.’

‘Do what?’ I asked, slightly defensive as I chanced a quick look up at him. He was looking at me with an exasperated expression.

‘Don’t be on the verge of telling me something important and then deflect,’ he said. ‘You’ve done it a few times already with me. What do you mean when you said it’s not just me that you want to leave?’

I looked into his troubled blue eyes and knew I must be honest with him. After all, I did not hate him. He should know the entire truth for me wanting to leave. ‘This house scares me slightly,’ I whispered, my voice shaking slightly.

I expected him to laugh at me, or roll his eyes or even sound offended. However what I did not expect was a look of complete empathy. ‘I see. In what way?’

I blinked, his question catching me off guard. ‘I-I find it eerie,’ I mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed. ‘It seems to affect my sleep. You saw me sleepwalking earlier and just now I had a nightmare…but it felt so real. I thought someone was in the bedroom with me ... This house can be eerie with its howling wind, the creaking noises. It feels sort of … wild.’

Perhaps it was the dimming candle light, but Mr Sharpe’s face seemed slightly paler now, more haggard as he stared at me. ‘A – a house as old as this one,’ he suddenly answered, looking slightly troubled, ‘becomes, in time, a living thing. The whisper of the wind, the floorboards creaking are all to be expected in an old home.’

I nodded, feeling slightly foolish. ‘I understand. I just haven’t had any sleep troubles in some time and now I both sleep walk and have a nightmare in the one night. I can’t help but feel that it’s connected to this house.’

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, sounding slightly sceptical. ‘Or maybe it’s because this is your first time so far north from London. The north takes getting used to, I’m sure.’

‘Maybe,’ I agreed, trying my best to sound nonchalant.

‘What sort of sleep trouble did you used to have anyway?’ he asked lightly, taking another drink of his now cold tea.

My insides seemed to squirm uncomfortably at his question. ‘I – I … do you ever have trouble sleeping, Mr Sharpe?’ I mumbled, changing the subject and suddenly sitting rigid and fixed on the chair.

His brow knotted in confusion again as he sat down his tea. He seemed to realise I was going through some internal struggle. His head was slightly cocked to the side as though mentally deliberating if he should comment upon my changed demeanour or not. ‘Sometimes,’ he admitted.

‘What do you do for it?’ I asked.

‘I usually make a cup of tea and work on my designs. Other times I read,’ he answered, tapping Wollstonecraft’s text again.

‘Do you like the Wollstonecraft’s work so far?’ I asked, my voice was wavering now.

‘I do. She makes some interesting arguments,’ he answered, still eying me curiously. ‘Particularly about education.’

‘I think so too. “Strengthen the female mind by enlarging it, and there will be an end to blind obedience,” I quoted, feeling calmer now at the safety of this topic of conversation.

He seemed taken back and I smiled sheepishly. ‘It’s one of my favourite texts. I’ve read it many times,’ I explained. ‘Though it has slight faults.’

‘It does?’ he queried, seemingly genuinely interested. ‘How so?’

I shrugged. ‘Wollstonecraft’s text is phenomenal. Her argument that women deserve education is wonderfully articulated in places. But, I think the she writes with a middle class perspective. She scathes upper class women and is condescending towards the lower class. I think that if equality if truly to happen amongst the sexes, women of all classes should support one another not judge.’

Mr Sharpe was looking at me incredulously and I bit my lip nervously. I never had voiced my opinion about this aloud before. Henry never seemed much interested in reading and found the idea of equal rights for women laughable and when drunk, it made him downright angry. ‘I completely agree, Ms Warren,’ Mr Sharpe finally answered.

‘You do?’ I queried, surprised by his answer.

‘Indeed,’ he nodded. ‘Support not judge. I agree with that idea. However, some people do not want support.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, growing more intrigued by him by the second.

‘Well, for instance you deflected my earlier question of what sort of sleep trouble you had,’ he said. ‘I only asked to offer support if I could, not judge you.’

‘That’s not the same thing,’ I argued, sighing exasperated.

‘How is it not?’

‘We were talking about class difference amongst females,’ I snapped in a slightly cold manner.

‘No, we were talking about the need for equality,’ Mr Sharpe answered. ‘Do you feel as though you cannot tell me this because I’m a man and that I would judge you?’

I could feel myself blush at the bluntness of his question. This conversation had taken an unexpected turn and I felt flustered. ‘No, that’s not it at all,’ I answered.

‘Support, not judge,’ Mr Sharpe said quietly. ‘I want to help. I owe you that much after I treated you poorly.’

‘You cannot help with this,’ I answered, staring to tremble slightly. I stood up quickly. ‘I should try and get some sleep now. I should get an hour or two in before breakfast, I think.’

‘Stop walking away from me!’ Mr Sharpe hissed, immediately standing up and following me through the kitchen and out by the foyer. ‘You seem so afraid to be honest with me.’

His loud voice carried through the foyer and echoed loudly, causing me to quickly glance up the stairs. ‘Mr Sharpe be quiet,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s not you I’m afraid of. If Henry should hear me.’

‘To hell with Henry!’ Mr Sharpe exclaimed as I started to climb the stairs quickly with him following behind me. ‘What are you afraid of? Is it Henry or that you have some sleep disorder that has flared up again?’

I suddenly paused on the stairs causing Mr Sharpe to lightly bump into me from behind. ‘Both,’ I whispered as I turned to face him. ‘Now, please, keep your voice low.’ I felt scared now and was trembling once more.

‘What do you mean, it’s both?’ he asked, looking deeply concerned. He dropped his voice to a whisper, but it did little to ease my worrying. It was too easy to hide in any dark corridors and eavesdrop unnoticed in this house. I looked around as though expecting to see Henry or even Ms Sharpe lurking in some dark corridor. ‘Look, I have to know before you leave,’ he pleaded. ‘If it’s me that you don’t like, just say it- ’

‘No, Mr Sharpe, that’s not it,’ I whispered, feeling sorry for him now. I wasn’t being fair to him and I did not want to hurt his feelings again. ‘I do like you. I do. But you won’t like me- ’

‘I already like you,’ he whispered his gaze suddenly soft, he stepped up on the next stair where I was situated and gently placed his palm on my cheek. I closed my eyes leaning into the touch, wanting so desperately to hold onto this moment forever. ‘How many times do I need to tell you? Please tell me, Ms Warren, be honest with me.’

‘You really want to know?’ I asked, looking up into his blue eyes as a tear finally fell from my own.

He nodded, his frame towered over but was not intimidating. It was warm, kind and something I desperately wanted. He gently wiped my tears with his thumb.

‘The reason I am so disturbed is that the last time I suffered such sleep disorders, such as vivid nightmares and sleepwalking, I-I was…’ my voice trailed off and I bit my trembling lip once more.

‘You were what?’ he asked gently, tilting my head up slightly to meet his gaze.

‘I was placed in the City of London Asylum,’ I whispered, my voice quavering. I watching his blue eyes round with abhorrent horror. I shook my head and pulled out of his grasp, unable to watch his reaction for a second longer.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I reached my bedroom just as the sun was slowly breaking through the fading dark sky. Finally my long, restless and frightening night at Allerdale Hall drew to a close. Yet my heart still raced as I hesitantly opened the bedroom door and looked around warily as though expecting the shadowed woman to suddenly reappear out of nowhere. My skin prickled uncomfortably at this thought and I had to take a deep breath before crossing the threshold of the bedroom and closed the door behind me as gently as I could. I honestly could not tell if what I seen were a nightmare or if it were real. This was perhaps most disturbing, for if I could not tell between reality and a dream then surely I truly was unbalanced and so did need another stay at the asylum? The only thing I remained certain of was that I would rather continue to stay here than ever go back to the asylum. The City of London Asylum was a morbid place that still made me quiver from head to toe. The things that occurred there were nothing short of horrific.

I subconsciously rubbed my wrists as a blaze of images flashed through my mind, one after another; dark rooms, padded cells, straps, screams of terror, pleads to stop, hysterical laughter and blood – blood on the walls, the same barbaric shade that occasionally splattered the walls here in Mr Sharpe’s home. I felt nauseous and quickly threw open the curtains wide and allowed the light to enter the room, hoping at the very least, it would ease my growing fear of the dark nights here at Allerdale Hall. The natural morning light, even the dark grey clouds and swirling snow were all a reassurance that everything was normal, with nothing eerie in sight. _There was no shadowed woman and I was certainly not going back to that asylum._

I had very little sleep during the course of the night but my mind refused to switch off as I lay in bed once more. Mr Sharpe’s look of surprise and outright horror was embedded in my mind every time I closed my eyes.

 _Was I foolish to tell him about my past? What if he told Henry, or worse yet his sister? What if he now grew wary of me? What if he no longer wished to be around me?_ This was a surprisingly hurtful realisation. I spent so much time considering the feelings of Mr Sharpe since my arrival, I had not considered my own. I still could smell his scent from his dressing gown that I wore and found it reassuring, comforting and also a bit unsettling. I was used of being independent in dealing with my problems and of living my life closed off from others not sharing my thoughts, feelings or ideas. _What was it about Mr Sharpe that changed all of this? Should I give in and chase the man who made me happy to see where it may go, or should I try to distance myself from inevitable heartbreak?_

As I started to doze, I could hear a sharp tap on the door. ‘Ms Warren?’ Ms Sharpe queried in a snappish manner. ‘Ms Warren, breakfast is ready. Please come down stairs shortly.’

I ignored her, my mind finally switching off as I dozed into a deep and thankfully, dreamless sleep.

‘Jo?’ a voice queried in what felt like mere moments later. ‘Jo, come on get up.’

I shook my head. ‘Go ‘way, Henry,’ I mumbled, unwilling to open my eyes. ‘I’m still sleeping.’

‘Jo, it’s two in the afternoon,’ Henry continued. ‘You must get up.’

I reluctantly pulled down the blanket from my face and to look at Henry. ‘What’s time again?’ I slurred.

‘Two,’ Henry said, a soft smile on his face. ‘So, up lazy bones. Are you feeling better?’

I sat up and rubbed my eyes as Henry’s words sank into my mind slowly. ‘Hmm?’

‘Thomas said you were feeling unwell last night,’ Henry mumbled, sitting down by my side on the bed. ‘And Ms Sharpe said she heard you roaming around the house late last night.’ My eyes widened at this, but I made no comment. ‘Thomas explained you were feeling unwell,’ Henry continued, completely oblivious to my panic. ‘He said he heard you and showed you the kitchen to get a cup of tea.’

I merely nodded in response to this but my heart suddenly leapt unexpectedly. So, Mr Sharpe had kept his promise then. He did not tell Henry I was sleepwalking or about my nightmare. I felt a sudden rush of warmth wash over me. _This was a sign he cared, surely?_

‘Are you feeling better now?’ Henry asked, looking over me with a slight air of boredom. ‘It’s just, I was in the middle of reviewing Thomas’s plan for the mine when he grew insistent that I check on you.’

‘He did?’ I asked, unable to keep the bright tone from my voice.

‘Indeed,’ Henry answered. ‘He seems most concerned, dear man. He said you were rather pale last night. Why didn’t you call for me, Jo? You know I’m only across the hall.’

I shrugged. ‘I didn’t wish to wake you,’ I answered, trying to meet his stare in what I hoped was a sheepish expression. ‘It was very late. I was only looking for a cup of tea.’

‘Ms Sharpe said you were on the third floor,’ Henry said, a slightly curious expression in his face.

 _Did she now?_ I mentally chided. ‘I-I was,’ I answered, knowing it would be foolish to lie. ‘I must have got lost in the dark corridors and being half-asleep, I didn’t realise were I was going. That’s when Mr Sharpe came across me.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Henry nodded, though he looked doubtful. ‘And you merely had a headache? Nothing more?’

My eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Nothing more,’ I answered coldly, knowing what he was getting at. ‘Why would you even ask?’

‘I just wondered,’ Henry replied slowly. ‘You never are usually up and about so late. You must admit, you’ve been acting very odd since we arrived, Jo.  I thought that maybe being in such a strange place so far away from home might be affecting you- ’

‘Well, it’s not!’ I exclaimed suddenly, growing irate by his suggestion. ‘I’m fine!’

‘Are you sure?’ Henry asked, an eyebrow raised. ‘I can contact Dr Conr- ’-

‘Henry, I’m fine,’ I repeated, my voice taking a deadened tone. ‘You’re over thinking this. If I was acting odd it’s because you spent our life’s savings without consulting me- ’

‘But I- ’ Henry interrupted.

‘Yes, I know. _You_ felt it was a good idea, yet you promised me we would talk before agreeing to anything!’ I hissed, cutting across him. ‘And last night, if you _must_ know, I was having my monthlies!’

Henry’s face suddenly turned red and he immediately looked away. I bit my lip hard to stop myself laughing at his mortified expression. Henry would rather go for a stroll in a snow storm than talk about ‘women’s problems’. He felt that was best left to doctors and other women.

‘You – you were?’ he queried, the embarrassed tone prevalent in his voice too. Trust Henry to fear the most natural of things such as a woman’s period and be completely oblivious to the unnatural. ‘Oh…’ Henry mumbled, his face glowing red. ‘I guess that’s why you were so erratic with Mr Sharpe and I before dinner yesterday.’

 _Erratic?_ I felt a stab of irritation at this for Henry seemed oblivious of my genuine annoyance at his actions. ‘No … I mean yes of course,’ I reluctantly answered, knowing it was the only way to shut down this argument effectively and avoid any more mention of the asylum. ‘I was uncomfortable. Do you remember what Dr Conrad said?

‘Short walks,’ Henry mumbled, sounding more and more uncomfortable by the second. ‘Keep hydrated.’

‘Exactly,’ I retorted. ‘And that’s what I tried to do.’

For a moment there was silence.

‘Are you um… feeling better today?’ Henry asked quietly.

I nodded. ‘Yes, quite. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get dressed.’

Henry immediately stood up to leave. ‘I will see you downstairs then,’ he said and left the room without a backwords glance. I watched him leave, feeling mildly triumphant. Yes, I should feel bad for lying to my brother but the truth would only cause too much chaos. I would not return to the asylum and if that could only be achieved by a little white lie then so be it.

I got dressed quickly and joined the others downstairs. Mr Sharpe and Henry were examining various detailed drawings and plans for the clay mine when I entered the drawing room. Mr Sharpe stood up at once followed by a reluctant Henry.

‘Ms Warren, how wonderful to see you!’ Mr Sharpe exclaimed. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

I smiled a little apprehensively at him before taking my usual seat at his right hand side. ‘Much better. I am so sorry for inconveniencing you last night, Mr Sharpe.’

Mr Sharpe sat down once more followed by Henry who immediately continued to look at the detailed plan before him. ‘It was no inconvenience,’ he said, his voice light.

I immediately jumped. Someone had placed their hand on my knee under the table. My eyes darted to Henry who was still focused on the papers and diagrams before him. I then looked at Mr Sharpe, his blue eyes sparkled in an almost roguish manner. I suddenly felt breathless yet made no move to remove his hand on my knee. I cleared my throat. ‘I erm I suppose you must think me so bizarre,’ I replied, my voice slightly trembling.

‘Never,’ Mr Sharpe replied quickly. ‘Never think that of yourself, Ms Warren,’ he added and gently squeezed my knee under the table. ‘I find you charming, intelligent, warm,’ his hand suddenly trailed up my thigh, his strong, long fingers firmly running higher and higher. His eyes continued to watch me intently, yet he remained composed, unlike I was. My breath was shaking and I was growing hot under my dress. _Should I stop him? Did I want want to stop?_   ‘Are you alright, Ms Warren? You look a little flushed?’

Suddenly Henry set down his paper. ‘Jo, you do seem a little hot,’ he said, eyeing me curiously.

‘Just a little warm,’ I whispered, my eyes darting to Henry, trying to remain composed.

‘Henry, lad,’ Mr Sharpe said quickly, one hand still firmly on my upper thigh. ‘There’s a jug of cool water in the kitchen and some lunch left aside for, Ms Warren. I’m sure you know better than I what she would like. Would you be so kind?’

Henry stood up without question. ‘Of course. I’ll only be a moment,’ he said and quickly left the room.

Mr Sharpe watched Henry leave before turning his gaze back to me. ‘Now, where were we?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow up as he surveyed me once more, an amused look on his face.

‘Mr Shape, what are you doing?’ I whispered shrilly.

‘I want to enjoy your company if this is to be our last day together,’ he responded quickly. ‘Don’t you like my touch?’

My flushed skin and rapidly rising and falling chest answered his question for me, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘I – this is wrong.’

His hand lightly caressed my upper thigh sending a rush of warmth through me and sent a spark of hot desire to pool most unfamiliarly at my middle. _Why did his touch so good?_

‘Does it feel wrong?’ he whispered, his deep voice caressing my senses as much as his hand was on my thigh.

I shook my head, trying to think clearly. ‘I - you know what I am,’ I whispered, voicing my fear. ‘I’m a lunatic, a freak… you should set your sights higher.’

‘Stop it!’ he growled in a suddenly gruff harsh tone. ‘Stop berating yourself and trying to push me away. Don’t you get it? I don’t care what your past may have entailed. You are so alluring, Josephine and I am not so easily scared away.’

For a moment I was struck dumb. My heart seemed to swell with inexplicable happiness when he said my name aloud.

‘Tell me what you truly want,’ Mr Sharpe pleaded.

Just then Henry re-entered the room carrying a tray. He set it down in front of me and then once more started to pour over his detailed plan. ‘Thomas, you should really talk me through this one again. Is it copper or lead best for this pipe? I need to work out a cost plan.’

Mr Sharpe cast one look at me, his eyes saddened before turning away to speak to Henry. His hand merely lay still on my lap, no longer tracing my thigh. I felt strangely hurt by this, as though it were a great personal insult.

‘I think copper would be more effective, Henry,’ Mr Sharpe continued. ‘It would certainly be more durable. I think I have the cost of materials here somewhere,’ Mr Sharpe said and began rifling through the various sheets.

I sipped on my water, my mind working furiously. _Mr Sharpe seemed genuinely unperturbed by my past. Why was I fighting so hard to push away a man who intrigued me, who made me feel giddy and so… young? How many times must I hurt his feelings even though I enjoyed his company? Just let go,_ a small voice said suddenly in the back of my mind _. Let go and chase happiness for once._

Grinning, I started to eat with one hand. My other hand reached under the table slowly clasping Mr Sharpe’s hand on my lap tightly. I watched him sit bolt upright at this direct contact as though he had been electrocuted. Henry babbled on about cost effectiveness and Mr Sharpe merely nodded a slight smile tugging at his lips now as he idly looked for the correct sheet.  

I ate some more as Mr Sharpe’s thumb idly rubbed my hand back and forth. _So he liked it then?_ Feeling bolder, I began to slowly guide his hand up and down my thigh. I glanced up to see a slight rosy tint appear on his otherwise porcelain cheeks. Mr Sharpe quickly glanced at me and gave a tiny imperceptible nod. I shifted slightly in my seat, the contact overwhelming all my other senses and causing a rush of warmth to flood over my body. Suddenly I felt shy and my hand froze. Yet Mr Sharpe’s hand seemed wide awake now. Without looking at me, he boldly delved his hand between my thighs and began to trace his fingers along the inside of the skin, rising higher and higher. My breath stuttered slightly, but Henry being so busy looking for his papers did not notice. I closed my eyes whilst my thigh twitched slightly against his hand. His hand seemed to try and prise my thighs further apart, long fingers pressing harder against the fabric of my dress. I was unable to suppress a small shuddering moan, my eyelids fluttering slightly.

‘Jo?’ a voice queried causing my eyes to open quickly.

I blushed darkly as I tried to close my legs tight. Mr Sharpe kept his hand between my now tightly closed legs. ‘Yes, Henry?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice as light and innocent as possible.

‘Are you alright? You looked as though you were dozing off just now and your skin is flushed,’ Henry asked, though he seemed more annoyed than concerned about this.

I blushed even more. ‘Was I?’ I asked lamely, trying to bite down on my lip to stop myself from smiling.

‘Yes, why don’t you pop into the living room? I expect this is rather boring to listen to,’ Henry snapped.

Mr Sharpe gently removed his hand from between my legs and I stood up feeling slightly lightheaded and giddy. ‘As you wish,’ I said softly, a playful smile on my lips. ‘Mr Sharpe it was a pleasure.’

Mr Sharpe finally looked up at me. His face was as flushed as mine and his pupils were blown wide. He cleared his throat and threw me a wide smile, showing all his teeth as he brought both hands together on the table. ‘The pleasure was all mine, Ms Warren, I assure you.’

I turned away from both men and feeling elated made my way to the living room.

That afternoon was spent in a haze of giddy euphoria. I decided to give up trying to fight whatever spark was between Mr Sharpe and I and simply enjoy it while it lasted as tomorrow I would be going home. He did not seem scared of my past nor did it make him cautious of me. On the contrary he seemed more intrigued by me and we spent all afternoon giving warm smiles to each other from across the room. We seemed to spend all of our final day in each other’s presence along with Ms Sharpe who joined us at mealtimes and Henry. Ms Sharpe of course, instantly was aware of the changed atmosphere between her brother and I but I gave her little heed, choosing instead to give her a wide berth and making sure I was never alone in her company.

By half nine we were having a final drink before bed. I was slightly tired even though we had stayed in all day due to the strong gusts of the bitter north wind. Henry had begrudgingly left to pack up his bags only a few moments ago.

‘Ms Warren?’ Mr Sharpe asked quietly as he sat down across from me in the living room with a glass of amber liquid in one hand. ‘Are you all set for your journey home tomorrow?’

‘Indeed I am, though I must say it’s with a heavy heart that I will leave,’ I said quietly, unable to tear my eyes away from his blue ones.

He smiled warmly, a true bright smile that made his eyes crinkle slightly. ‘And there’s me thinking you abhorred the north.’

‘It takes some getting used to,’ I explained matching his bright smile with one of my own. ‘But it grows on you after a time.’

He grinned even more widely before Ms Sharpe cut across us. ‘I think you should go to bed shortly. You will need to be well rested for your homewards journey,’ she said curtly, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

Mr Sharpe rolled his eyes causing me to stifle a giggle and quickly changing it into a yawn under Ms Sharpe’s disapproving glare.

‘As you wish, Ms Sharpe,’ I answered standing up.

‘I’ll walk you,’ Mr Sharpe answered, immediately standing and setting his drink aside.

Ms Sharpe stood up and set her glass down with a sharp tap on the table before turning to glower at me. ‘Nonsense Thomas, I’m sure Ms Warren can -’

‘Remember your manners, sister,’ Mr Sharpe said scolded before linking my arm in his and leaving Ms Sharpe looking positively livid in the room.

‘Your sister will be out for my blood if you keep this up!’ I whispered, half panicked half giddy as we crossed the foyer and headed up the stairs.

‘Leave me worry about Lucille,’ he said his eyes glinting in delight.

We continued to walk in happy silence until we reached me bedroom. ‘Thank you for walking me up,’ I said, feeling somewhat nervous.

‘I want to spend as much time in your company before we part tomorrow,’ he whispered, nervously eyeing Henry’s bedroom door. He quietly opened my bedroom door and I followed him, quickly shutting the door behind us.

‘Are you going straight to sleep?’ he asked, as he closed the curtains.

‘I was planning on taking a bath first, if well – if erm, you would like to stay,’ I answered. I watched his eyes round in surprise as he turned sharply to face me. ‘No, I mean I’ll be bathing alone…I wasn’t saying… I mean you can wait in my room if you like. Perhaps we could talk some more about Wollstonecraft? ’

Mr Sharpe laughed quietly. ‘That sounds delightful,’ he answered. ‘Shall I run you a hot bath?’

I suddenly was blushing furiously. ‘I- I can run my own bath, Mr Sharpe,’ I answered slowly. ‘I would hate for you to get the wrong idea. I only wish to chat with you this evening.’

He looked at me with a blank stare. ‘I understand. That’s all I want – a chance to know you better. I would not pressure you into anything you were uncomfortable with- ’

‘I’ve heard that promise before,’ I whispered before I could stop myself.

‘By who?’ Mr Sharpe asked, stepping closer to me.

I immediately stepped back. ‘I really would like a bath first, before it gets too late,’ I answered, paling slightly. ‘The perhaps we can talk?’

Mr Sharpe nodded. ‘I’ll be here,’ he answered, his eyes seemed to searching my own and I quickly turned away.

I gathered my things and hurried into the adjoining bathroom closing the door but not locking it out of habit. Henry always forbade locks on doors at home. I lit some candles and ran the bath and quickly stripped down naked. The water was so soothing and relaxing that I did not want to leave it. Looking around I noticed the bathroom was slightly dim, casting a gloomy glow on the yellowing tiles. I noticed some of the tiles had the same crimson splatters of clay mine residue that looked so eerily like blood. I closed my eyes trying to push this from my mind, for it reminded me of the shadowed woman I thought I had seen last night. Instead I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the tub and thought of Mr Sharpe.

Truthfully, I would miss Mr Sharpe, even though I only knew him a few short days. He seemed was a difficult man to read, and I’m sure he had secrets of his own but he was strangely vulnerable and eager to please. He also was highly intelligent, witty and outright charming. It was a heady combination and I barely could keep coherent thoughts and speech in his company.

I heard a tap on the door and presumed it too be Mr Sharpe. I grinned slightly. ‘Just a moment, Mr Sharpe,’ I answered. I closed my eyes as I started to wash my hair but felt a slight draught wash over me followed by a thud on the floor. I froze, my hands still in my hair, my eyes closed as my breath caught in my throat. This wasn’t a creaking floorboard I heard. This was a definite step on the cold tiled marble floor of the bathroom. I immediately opened my eyes and saw nothing, yet I felt deeply uneasy.

_Something was wrong._

‘Mr Sharpe?’ I called out, my voice wavering slightly.

‘Yes?’ he answered right away from the other side of the door.

‘I – I’ll be out soon,’ I mumbled.

I quickly rinsed my hair out with a plastic jug, opening my eyes between each rinse. Rinse then, look around. Nothing there. Rinse then look around. Nothing there. Rinse then look around. I opened my eyes the third time and jumped in the bath causing the water to slosh around the tub. Standing before the tub was the shadowed woman. I swore it had to be her. Her frame tall and emaciated, her hair wild and long, yet her body from head to toe was crimson.

I screamed instantly, terror filtering through every fibre of my being as I looked at this horrifying bloody silhouette form

‘MS WARREN?’ I heard Mr Sharpe cry. He was banging on the door. ‘OPEN THE DOOR!’

I couldn’t breathe properly as this being cocked its head to the side as though judging me. I hurriedly attempted to stand up in an attempt to reach the door and unlock it. However as soon as I moved, all the candles went out and I screamed even louder. ‘MR SHARPE!’ I howled as I was plunged into darkness. ‘HELP ME!’

‘JOSEPHINE!’ Mr Sharpe cried, fists still banging uselessly against the now locked door. ‘WHAT’S WRONG?’

I shrieked as I felt two skeletal hands grasp my shoulders from behind the bathtub. Though they looked brittle they were strong and kept me rooted to the spot as I heard louder bangs against the door now. I desperately surged forward with all my force, attempting to stand up but my foot landed on the bar of soap in the tub and I slipped backwards. The back of my head roughly hit the tub with a deadened thud and I was completely submerged underwater as I fell back. I gave another cry but it was quickly cut off by the water, which my open mouth choked on. I coughed and spluttered but only inhaled more water as I heard more banging. I couldn’t breathe. I was not getting oxygen. I was going to die. I felt so dazed and disorientated from the bang on my head that all I was aware of was the water turning the same bloody shade as the crimson silhouette before everything turned black and my body went still at last.

The door finally was broken open by a tall, scared looking man. His blue eyes temporarily froze on the scene in front of him before he reached the bathtub and gently pulled the naked, lifeless body of Josephine from the now icy cold water.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not told from Jo's point of view and so has a different perspective from the other chapters so far. The reasons for this will become apparent once you read the chapter. However we do get an insight into Thomas' mind which I hope you enjoy! x

Chapter Seven

I remembered a crimson tide of water encapsulating me in seconds as my muscles instinctually fought to survive, but they were nothing more than dead weight. I could not so much as twitch. Briefly I was panicked but as my vision narrowed I truthfully grew a little relieved. It was over, all the hardness of life would soon be over. No more asylums, no more punishments, no more guilt. I did not believe in religion and this was possibly the desperate thinking of a dying woman, but maybe there was an afterlife where my father and sister waited for me. Maybe my mother too was waiting for me, her youngest child, to hold close for the first time.

I stopped struggling.

I let go.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

The door was broken inwards and two men stood in its frame. One stocky framed man was trying to hold up the door which was partially falling down from its hinges. This man seemed to sway slightly as he struggled to hold the door up. His muddy eyes were bloodshot and they seemed to be rooted to the bathtub just beyond the door.

‘Jo,’ he whispered cautiously, yet remained where he was. His voice was oddly crackled. He seemed to be terrified to step into the bathroom and remained to the pointless task of holding up the broken door in its hinges.

The other man was taller, his frame lither and appearance more cared for than Henry’s. His blue eyes widened at the scene before him and for the briefest of seconds his already pale skin, went even more ashen, giving him the appearance of a man who greatly aged in mere seconds. He stepped forward into the bathroom hurriedly, his eyes glued to the tub. He bent down and picked up the lifeless, naked body of Josephine from the tub. He noted she showed no signs of life, her naked body was icy cold and there was blood in the tub, mixing with the surprisingly icy water creating an unnerving crimson liquid. Therefore, Josephine was clearly bleeding from some point in her body but he could not see any wound upon her as cradled her as gently as he could to his chest. He reached for a towel that was folded on a basket beside the tub with his one free hand whilst the other still supported Josephine’s body. Hurriedly he unfurled the towel onto the tiled bathroom floor and laid it down best he could before he gently placed her body down upon it and straddled her hips being careful to keep his weight off her body.

‘Thomas!’ Henry suddenly barked from the door, sounding enraged, ‘What on Earth do you think you are doing, man?!’

‘She is not breathing. We need to rid any water from her lungs,’ Thomas answered, the panic in his voice unmistakably clear as he gently reached over her body and caught either of her arms. ‘We must act quickly!’ He gathered Josephine’s lifeless arms up above her head ‘This will open her chest cavity allowing a flow of air into the lungs’ he explained then brought her arms back down to press against her chest. ‘And this,’ he continued, ‘will force air out of her lungs.’ He quickly repeated the process over and over, until sweat formed on his brow, his eyes were widening even more and his brow knotted in desperation. ‘Come on, Josephine, please,’ he whispered quietly. ‘Don’t leave me here alone. Please!’

As he pressed her arms to her chest once again, her body suddenly spasmed, jerking roughly as her eyelid’s fluttered and suddenly she was making a rasping spluttering noise. Immediately Thomas moved off her and gripped her shoulder, turning her on her side as her weak frame shook. Thomas then patted her back roughly until Josephine coughed and spluttered up water. He then rubbed her back in a soothing manner. ‘Easy now,’ he hushed, his voice full of relief. ‘Take deep breaths, Josephine,’ he whispered, his eyes only now noticing the marks on her back and the oozing of blood down her neck. It took a few moments before she was breathing steadily once more.

‘Thomas?’ her weak voice called, but it was drowsy and thick. She was conscious, but only just.

‘I’m here, you’re safe now,’ he answered, his voice slightly strained as he stared transfixed at her back. He gently let her lie flat again and smiled softly down at her, idly brushing a stray hair from her face. ‘Rest now, I have you. You’re safe with me.’

‘I know,’ she croaked her voice sounding raw, but she smiled softly as her eyes closed once more.

Thomas smiled before picking her up being as gentle as he could. She was unconscious but breathing. He brought her to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, immediately removing his coat and covering her body with it to give her some modesty now and warm her slowly up along with the help of the open fire. His large hand palmed her cheek, his eyes searching her face.

‘Thomas?’ the man still holding the doorframe called in a petrified whisper. He slowly let the doorframe go and it creaked in protest but did not fall away from the frame. ‘I-is she going to l-live?’ he asked, stepping closer and reaching his own hand out to stroke his sister’s dark red hair.

Suddenly Thomas’s hand reached out and snatched Henry’s wrist. ‘Get out,’ he whispered still looking at Josephine yet his grip remained unmercifully tight on Henry’s wrist.

‘Excuse me?’ Henry answered, trying futilely to pull his wrist from Thomas’s grasp.

‘Go away,’ Thomas answered, his tone angry. ‘Just leave – get supplies – towels, more blankets - she’s icy cold and maybe some clean linen. Get Lucille, send her to fetch the medical kit we keep.’

Henry merely nodded his eyes glued to Josephine’s pale face.

‘Now, for heaven’s sake!’ Thomas spat and let go of Henry’s wrist. Henry gave a slightened frightened squeak before leaving the bedroom.

When Henry left the room, Thomas sat down by Josephine’s head. He lightly stroked her hair before slowing turning her and looking for the wound on her head. He found it easily and tried to ease the flow of blood with a lace napkin from his pocket. Fortunately the wound was not very deep, but still bled reasonably heavily. Thomas then gently removed the coat from Josephine’s body so that her bare back was on display for him to see. His blood boiled by what he saw. Josephine’s skin was marred in many places, circular deep red marks tarnished her body that were clear evidence of cigar burns, long scars and many gashes that looked like whip marks. Thomas traced each of these horrendous marks that were evident of years of abuse with a shaking hand. His eyes filled and started to spill as he slowly touched each scar. Who would do this to Josephine? She had told him she was damaged and had a difficult past, she explained she had been placed in an asylum but never did he think she suffered horrors such as this. What happened this beautiful young woman? He suspected her brother was behind this and if it were not for the fact that Josephine were in desperate need for care and medical attention he would be dealing with Henry right now. Shaking slightly he turned, Josephine flat onto her back once more. Feeling intrigued he examined her front now, which he was too busy to notice when he was trying to get her to breathe again. What immediately drew his attention were the cigar burns by her breasts and on her stomach. She had a few scars that looked like the remains of deep embedded scratches. One such scratch and burn mark were on her chest above her breast, but her high collared dresses had kept covered it from sight during the day. These marks looked relatively new. The cigar burn still seemed raw pink, the skin tender looking. The sight made Thomas feel nauseous. It was Henry the other night who did that, Thomas thought. He knew he overheard Josephine tell Henry to stop ‘punishing her’. He was going to deal with Henry alright. There was also one clear mark of a deep lash of a whip that swept across her lower stomach and reached right around her hip. He traced it feeling utterly heartbroken until he heard footsteps approaching down the corridor.

With Lucille’s help, Thomas tended to Josephine’s head injury, dressed her and placed her in bed. However, Josephine showed no sign of waking up and as more time passed it became apparent that professional medical help maybe needed.

‘Henry!’ Thomas barked from where he was sitting at the end of Josephine’s bed. Josephine looked peaceful now, no longer icy cold but still very pale.

Henry who had been awkwardly watching on from the fire stepped forward. ‘Yes Thomas?’ 

‘Pack a bag and saddle up a horse,’ Thomas said standing up and towering over Henry’s frame with a look of disgust on his face. ‘Ride further north. There is a small town not too far from here – a few hours if you ride fast. Find a doctor and bring him here at once.’

‘I-I erm,’ Henry cast a nervous look at Thomas. ‘Should I not wait until light, Thomas chap?’

‘No,’ Thomas answered, looking venomous, ‘You must leave now. Your sister needs help. There is a full moon that will guide you and the journey is on a safe direct road.’

Henry stood rooted to the spot, fiddling with a hole in the pocket of his dressing gown. ‘I – well, I mean to say, she’s alright, chap. Breathing and all. Surely it can wait until daylight?’

Suddenly Mr Sharpe gripped Henry’s shoulders tightly, his blue narrowed into slits. ‘Perhaps I should make myself clear, Henry,’ he whispered, stepping closer to him as his grip tightened. Henry stepped back but jumped as he realised he was close to the fire. Mr Sharpe however seemed to care less about this and leaned in even closer. ‘Your sister stopped breathing earlier and suffered an injury to her head. She needs a doctor.’

‘Yes, b-but it’s j-just a cut on her head,’ Henry babbled, shrinking before Mr Sharpe’s piercing angry glare.

‘Just a cut on her head?’ Mr Sharpe said, his voice rising now. He stepped closer to Henry who seemed trapped between his towering presence and the roaring fire behind him. ‘Get the fuck out of my house and do not return without a doctor. Be quick.’

Henry looked aghast. ‘Why, Thomas? What are you -?’

‘NOW!’ Thomas roared and Henry fled the room without another word.

By the early hours of the morning, Lucille had retired to bed but Thomas refused to leave Josephine’s side as he waited for her to wake or Henry to return with a doctor. He sat by the top of the bed near her head, only rising to occasionally add logs to the fire and making sure she was warm. Now, his hands were methodically running through her hair and he desperately hoped she would wake up soon. He wanted to know why she had those marks on her body, he wanted to comfort this woman who so reminded of himself. She was smart but lonely, honest but confined to the will of her sibling, she was trapped in her role as a good sister every much as he was trapped to the role of a good brother. Yet, in her time here, despite her hardships, this woman smiled – a warm bright smile, she engaged with Thomas and debated with him, made him laugh, made him think deeply about certain ideas and causes. She appeared as an unexpected bright flame in his otherwise darkened life. To Thomas, Josephine was a symbol of hope, of light and of a future – a happy future. When he saw her naked lifeless body it was as though he himself had died. He swore his heart seemed to stop beating and his blood ran as icy cold as her body.

However, when he finally did help her breathe once more, he found himself completely aware of her naked body. Her skin when finally warm was so soft, as white as snow with an odd freckle here and there dotting her skin. Such full luscious breasts, curvy shapely hips and an hourglass waist. He felt guilty about how aroused he was as he saw her naked body when alone in the bedroom. He wanted her, yearned for naked curvy body to be pressed against his own, those ripened breasts rapidly rising and falling, her sweet sighs and moans in his ear. He imagined slowly easing into her, her warmth encasing him bit by bit, as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, urging him on as he immersed himself fully into this beautiful alluring woman.

He stopped fantasising when he heard her sigh in her sleep, and felt ashamed. _I should be focusing on restoring her health, not fuelling my fantasies_ , he thought. And Josephine needed to be restored. She was intelligent, strong and confident, yet her body bore the marks of a hard life suffered in silence. She reminded Thomas of a lily; beautiful, innocent, yet oddly sorrowful. Someone hurt her – badly – damaged her beautiful body and scarred her for life. Clearly he had grown attached to this woman in such a short time, yet he was frightened of what this meant. She had already endured so much, how could she possibly endure a life here at Allerdale Hall?

Finally she began to stir from her sleep, mumbling and tossing slight. Thomas quickly stood up, not wanting to overwhelm her by being so close to her when she woke.

‘Ms Warren?’ he softly called, lightly brushing her hair. ‘Ms Warren can you hear me?’ 

She opened her eyes slowly and nodded, wincing as she did.

‘Hold still, Ms Warren,’ Thomas urged. ‘You hit your head in the tub, I’m afraid. Try not to move for now.’

She looked confused, her green eyes searching his own blue ones. ‘W-where’s she?’ she muttered so low, Thomas could scarce hear her. Her voice sounded bone dry, and raw, no doubt from nearly drowning earlier.

‘It’s alright, just rest, I’ll get you water,’ Thomas answered his eyes filled with concern, not comprehending her.

‘No!’ she pleaded, reaching for Thomas’s arm and holding as tight as her weak limbs allowed. ‘Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me alone!’ she whispered, her confused eyes suddenly panicked.

Thomas sat on the bed by her side. ‘As you wish, Ms Warren,’ he said reassuringly and lightly held her panicked grasp with his free hand. ‘You are safe. Try and rest. I will stay right here with you.’

Her grip seemed to instantly relax at his words, though her eyes darted madly about the room. ‘Henry?’ she barked after a moment.

‘He’s gone to get help,’ Mr Sharpe said gently. ‘He will return later with a doctor.’

At this, Josephine immediately sat bolt upright, her skin paling so much so that she looked just as she had done as Thomas pulled her out of the bath. Immediately he tried to gently push her back down against the bed. ‘Easy, Ms Warren,’ he pleaded.

‘Why?’ she asked, in an evident sense of stress, fighting surprisingly strongly to sit up right.

‘I asked him to,’ Mr Sharpe answered causing Ms Warren to gasp and stop struggling at once.

‘You did?’ she asked, her voice wavering, her skin tinged with grey. _The poor creature looks terrified,_ Mr Sharpe thought as he nodded.

‘Why is that a bad thing?’ Mr Sharpe asked holding her firmly by her shoulders, thinking she looked fit to faint at any second.

Josephine’s wide green eyes looked panicked. ‘H-he’s going to get Dr Conrad,’ she whispered, her voice wavering, clearly close to tears. Mr Sharpe noted she was shivering once more and lightly rubbed her arms. ‘He’s going to put me back in the asylum.’

 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

‘Hush now, Ms Warren,’ Mr Sharpe said softly, trying to ease me back down against the bed as gently as he could. He seemed shocked by my sudden fierceness.

‘NO!’ I cried out, desperately fighting against him, a sudden rush of adrenaline raced through my veins – all pain and dizziness gone. ‘You don’t understand! I can’t – I won’t go back there!’ He tried to grip my wrists but I cried out even louder, tugging them away. Finally sensing that I did not want to be restrained or perhaps desperate to keep me quiet, he let me go. I made to stand up quickly in one swift movement from the bed in a panicked attempt to flee. As soon as I stood up, my knees fell weak and my vision blurred.

‘I don’t think you should - Josephine!’ Mr Sharpe cried, swiftly trying to steady me as my knees buckled of their own accord.

‘I can’t!’ I continued, still struggling weakly in his grip. He ignored my protests and guided me back down to bed, sitting me in it comfortably, turning me so that my back was against the fluffy pillows that rested against the headboard of the dark oak bed. He pulled the blanket up around me. I gripped his wrists with either of my hands. ‘I – they did things there. Terrible things…’ my voice trailed off slowly into a barely audible whisper. My eyes stared into his shocked sparkling blue ones, but I was not really seeing them. I was focused on a sudden sense of impending doom, like something awful was about to happen at any second. The feeling I had throughout my entire stay at the asylum. My mind was a rush of images, reminding me of my former terror;

 _They flashed through my mind, one after another; dark rooms, padded cells, straps, screams of terror, pleads to stop, hysterical laughter and blood – blood on the walls, the same barbaric shade that occasionally splattered the walls here in Mr Sharpe’s home._   _I pleaded but no one came to help. They didn’t stop…_

‘Josephine,’ a sudden voice stated quietly, but my mind barely heard him speak. _I pleaded but no one came to help. They didn’t stop…I tried to stop them._

‘Josephine,’ the voice repeated. Thomas very gently positioned himself so that he was straddling my lap. His longs legs were kneeling apart to keep his weight off my body. He slowly removed his hands from my wrists and placed them at either side of my face, then he softly pressed his forehead to mine. ‘You are here safe with me, do you understand?’ he whispered, his voice washing over me.

His close proximity and touch immediately detracted me from my thoughts. I was here with Thomas. ‘You are safe here with me’ he said quietly, one thumb sweeping a tear away from my cheek. I hadn’t even realised I had been crying – I must look an awful mess, yet Thomas didn’t look off put, he looked concerned.

I nodded once, wincing slightly. My head suddenly resumed its painful throbbing I felt nauseous, my throat was raw and I felt so weak.

‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, his forehead still pressed close to mine, lips mere centimetres from my own.

‘Yes’ I whispered, leaning into his touch, closing my eyes and feeling my body relax beneath him.

‘Then know I will never let any harm befall you,’ he vowed. ‘Henry is gone to get the nearest town’s doctor that is all. You hit your head off of the tub’ he continued, in the same quiet gentle tone. ‘I think you may have swallowed a great deal of water too. You need to sit back, stay still and relax. Exerting yourself may cause more damage. Can you do that for me?’

‘I – yes but what if he recommends another doctor’s evaluation’ I asked as I tried to relax against the bed. ‘I hated it there. I felt so alone. I- ’

‘Hush, now darling’ Mr Sharpe whispered, lightly pressing a kiss to my forehead. His lips stayed there briefly before he shifted once more so that he was sitting on the bed beside me. ‘He will not. Nor will you return there. Trust me.’

Thomas tucked me back into the bed, pulling the duvet up around me. ‘You’re not going back to that asylum. Ever. Do you understand me?’

I nodded once but immediately winced again. ‘I’m sorry – I just there’s certain things – memories, I guess that one would rather forget,’ I tried to explain weakly.

‘I understand,’ Mr Sharpe said, his eyes seemingly lingering on the bedroom door. ‘Yet we cannot escape our past, only learn from it,’ he added, gazing at me once more with a thoughtful look on his face. ‘You are far stronger than whatever horror you faced because you overcame it. You’re still here. Still fighting too. You’re quite strong for a woman who almost drowns and has a head wound, Ms Warren.’

I tried to laugh but found it painful. Mr Sharpe's laugh quickly became a look of concern once more. ‘The doctor will be here soon’ he repeated, ‘You need pain relief. Do you remember falling at all?’

For a moment my mind drew a blank then my eyes widened. ‘There was a woman’ I said, realising now fully what had happened. ‘This crimson figure – I saw her, she was skeletal and so tall. She held me down in the tub. I couldn’t breathe!’ I grasped at my chest as though reliving the experience. ‘She looked like a monster – a ghost I don’t – I can’t…’

Thomas stretched one long arm stretching out to hug me close. ‘You’re safe now’ he said an edge of caution to his voice.

I swallowed thickly, and watched the same cautious expression on his face before he pulled away. ‘You do believe me, don’t you, Mr Sharpe?’

He paused, blue eyes locked down on my body, not meeting my eyes. ‘I believe that you firmly believe that’s what you think you saw.’

I suddenly recoiled as though he had slapped me. ‘So you don’t believe me?’ I snapped, not being fooled by his answer. ‘You think I’m crazy to make up such a story.’

‘That’s not what I said!’ he exclaimed, causing me to wince once more. My head throbbed worse than ever. He eyes me with concern as though he knew I were in pain. ‘All I meant is that I saw no such thing’ he said more quietly. ‘If you say you did then I believe you, but it might have been a dream or a nightmare. May be you had fallen asleep in the bath?’ he suggested, but he looked uncertain himself.

For a second I wanted to scream in his face but realised this would do little to prove my sanity. Instead I fell mute. I know what I saw after all, even if he hadn’t seen it. My brow furrowed, _why hadn’t he seen it?_

‘Where were you when I called for help?’ I asked, finding myself turning to stare into his eyes once more – they held a hypnotic power over me - for in them was a strange fleck of light blue, of faint grey and of the darkest black. It was impossible not to stare at them.

‘I was right outside the door’ he answered looking bereft. ‘I tried so hard, I thought maybe you had fallen and couldn’t get up. I didn’t realise that you were drowning. Had the door been unlocked I could have reached you sooner.’

‘It was unlocked’ I mumbled wearily, watching his eyes fill with guilt.

‘It was not’ he answered defiantly. ‘I heard your screams, it wouldn’t open. It wouldn’t. I’m sorry, Josephine, I tried to get in as quickly as I could’ he repeated, his voice fading, he seemed oddly childlike now. ‘I’m sorry.’

His childlike apology stunned me for his entire posture seemed to crumble with it. I reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. ‘It’s alright. Perhaps I locked it. Usually I would never though. Henry doesn’t like any door in the house being keyed.’

He smiled as I gripped his hand, but his face grew dark when I mentioned Henry.

‘What is it?’ I asked, my head throbbing once more. I felt exhausted but didn’t want Thomas to leave.

‘Nothing’ Mr Sharpe replied, pressing a feather-light kiss on my forehead. ‘It can wait. You must rest.’ I leaned against him resting my head against his shoulder as a warm, sleepy smile to break out across my face. ‘That’s it’ he said quietly as I started to relax once more.

His steady breathing soon had me dozing. ‘Sleep well, my heart’s darling’ he murmured. Before I knew it I had fallen back to sleep.

***

‘Why her?’ a thin waspish voice asked impertinently.

‘She fits, Lucille’ Thomas answered, sounding utterly exhausted. ‘She has money, charm and the right connections.’

‘Nothing more then?’ Lucille demanded her brisk tone as sharp as ice.

‘What do you mean?’ Thomas quickly asked.

I stirred quietly, my head still felt so sore I could barely move it. I realised I had been repositioned in the bed. I was now lying flat on my back. I dozed in and out of consciousness.

‘I find the both of you in here- ’ 

‘I was trying to help our ill guest’ Thomas answered with a sigh. ‘I don’t think her brother would be too keen to do business with us if his sister should fall seriously ill or die over our watch. You see how close they are. They are like us in a way - they only have each other. ’

There was a slight pause. ‘I suppose in a way they are,’ she admitted after a time. ‘That brother of hers is a brute.’

‘I noticed,’ Thomas answered, a deep rough edge to his voice. ‘Yet for now it is not important.’

‘Are you showing concern for this woman?’ Lucille asked mockingly, yet the slight demand of her tone was unmistakable.

‘No, of course not,’ Thomas answered, a nervous edge to his voice. ‘I only mean that without Henry we have no money.’

‘I see, little brother,’ Lucille said starting to pace across the wooden floor. ‘I thought as much. She is not your type; too uncontrolled in her passions, too head strong, too emotional.’

‘She’s a feminist, Lucille’ Thomas said and then quickly added. ‘She only wants to be treated as an equal, is that so awful?’

Lucille laughed, the noise sharp and bitter. ‘She is a dreamer. She aims for perfection when it doesn’t exist. There will be a time of gender equality of that I’m sure, but she needs to live in this era. There are certain things that some people will never understand or accept in this life, Thomas, you know that.’

Another pause, this one far longer. ‘The doctor should be here soon, at least’ Thomas said, his voice low.

‘If that idiotic bother of hers would just transfer the funds we wouldn’t have to wait play nurse on this naïve fool’ Lucille said with a hint of annoyance in her otherwise haughty tone.

‘The sooner we help restore Ms Warren to her full health, the sooner Henry will transfer the money’ Thomas answered reassuringly. ‘He is a man of his word.’

‘This would have been so much easier if we just resumed the old plans. She likes you somewhat. And if he were permanently out of the picture then we could have all their money much sooner’ Lucille said very quickly, as though this was what she had been longing to say for some time.

‘No, Lucille’ Thomas said gruffly. ‘We cannot do that anymore. Think about the last time. We cannot risk it. We go about our business the right way from now on. That’s what we agreed.’

Lucille lapsed into silence. ‘Perhaps we could convince her- ’

Lucille was interrupted by a booming thud on the mansions main door some floors below. I stirred, my head throbbing once more at the noise, lifting me from my semi-conscious state.

‘That would be them’ Thomas said quickly. ‘About time too.’

‘I better let them in' Lucille replied. 'Try to wake her.' I then heard her leave the bedroom shutting the door none too gently behind her.

I was awoken fully by the warm touch of Thomas' hands on my own. ‘Ms Warren?’ he whispered tentatively.

I stirred again, my eyes opening slowly. ‘Thomas? I thought I heard you speaking.’

His grip stiffened on my hand. ‘Really?’ he responded a little lower as though speaking to himself.

‘Yes mind you, I think I could have been dreaming’ I whispered, smiling up at him.

‘How do you feel, Ms Warren?’ he asked smiling almost shyly in return.

‘A little sore perhaps, but otherwise fighting fit,’ I answered.

Mr Sharpe chuckled, the sound so innocent it sent jolts of happiness throughout me. ‘I’m sure you will be. You’ve got a fighting spirit.’

There was a knock on the bedroom door. Mr Sharpe stood up immediately as it opened. Henry and a rather kind faced older man stood in the doorway briefly.

‘Jo!’ Henry exclaimed before bounding over to me. He grasped my hand. ‘Oh Jo, thank heavens, I thought I had lost you!’

I smiled. ‘Nonsense Henry, just a slight bump on my head’ I answered calmly. ‘Nothing to be too concerned over. I hope that poor doctor will not feel as though we have wasted his time.’

The doctor smiled as he drew nearer, his face kind but slightly weather-beaten. ‘You must be young Lady Warren,’ he said with a slight smile. I shook his hand and tried to sit up right, but he waved indicating I was to stop moving. ‘Be still, young woman. I will hear what happened, examine you and then you can get up. How does that sound?’

I nodded then winced, my head still feeling so tender. The doctor drew over the nearest chair and I began my story, making no mention of crimson women, ghosts or monsters, only that I had fallen in the tub when I tried to get out of it. Mr Sharpe eyes darted towards mine, but he did not interfere. Lucille stood by his side, having joined after the men entered the room.

‘Then all went dark’ I finished somewhat lamely less than five minutes later.

The doctor patted my hand sympathetically. ‘All right gentlemen. Would you care to tell me what happened from there?’

Henry reddened, his cheeks burning. ‘Well, we tried to get her out, you know. But the door was locked. Mr Sharpe managed to break it down eventually…’ his voice trailed off as he looked more embarrassed than ever.

‘I managed to eventually break down the door’ Mr Sharpe started, stepping closer to the doctor and I. ‘I removed her from the tub – well, I found her completely lifeless, doctor, I thought – I thought …’ he paused, his eyes oddly glassy for a moment.

‘Thought she was dead, doctor,’ Henry explained somewhat abruptly, seemingly less perturbed now that Thomas had spoken.

Thomas shot Henry a venomous look. ‘For a moment, yes. I did. I-I’m not sure how much water she swallowed exactly, but I started to expel the water from her lungs with compressions’ he quickly went on to explain. ‘Within thirty seconds she was breathing again. I covered her, warming her slowly before placing her in bed. It was then I noticed the wound on the back of her head. It all happened very quickly, you see.’

‘Have you received medical training, Mr Sharpe?’ the doctor asked, facing him with a curious expression.

‘No, not exactly. I have read much in that area’ Mr Sharpe explained, he blushed slightly as though embarrassed. I smiled inwardly, for all his seemingly outward confidence Mr Sharpe could suddenly be shy bordering on vulnerable for the strangest reasons. I found it so endearing. When he looked my way once more I gave him an encouraging smile and a slight wink. He softly bit down his bottom lip as though to stop himself from smiling, his cheeks slightly more rosy but his eyes showing clear signs of happiness.

‘Just as well young Sir or Ms Warren may not be here right now!’ the doctor exclaimed.

However I was barely listening now. It suddenly dawned on me that Mr Sharpe had seen me completely naked and that it was he was suddenly so bashful. Suddenly it was my turn to blush. The thought made me nauseous.

 _Oh god, how could I possibly explain all those marks on my body without chasing him away?_ _And why the hell had I winked at him…oh no, oh no. He’s going to think I’m desperately flirting. Who the hell smiles and winks at this time anyway? And he seen me in hysterics about the asylum. Why would he even be interested in a woman like me?_

I grew quieter, aware that his gaze briefly flickered to mine, his eyes sketching quickly over my body confirming what I feared. He had indeed seen me naked. I glanced at Lucille who seemed equally surprised and disgusted by this information. She quickly looked at Thomas before her eyes locked on mine, burning in their intensity. She looked furious by this revelation.

‘I should now like to examine, Ms Warren alone’ the doctor said quietly.

They all left one by one, Henry awkwardly shaking my hand before he bound for the door. ‘Thomas chap, you don’t have any more whiskey do you? My nerves are frightfully shot after all this excitement’ I heard him exclaim, his loud voice echoing down the hallway as they retreated.

The doctor smiled at me and helped me slowly sit up right. I felt slightly dizzy but he explained it was normal. He examined the wound on the back of my head and said it was not too deep. He asked some questions about my general health overall to which I answered I had no long-term problems. He also examind my chest and throat before confirming that they were mildly inflamed but that should go down in a few days. He was a very kind, sweet man - perhaps the kindest doctor I'd ever known.  Once finished he went to retrieve Henry and Mr Sharpe, whilst Lucille joined some moments later, slinking in as quietly and stealthy as a black cat.

‘You should heal up in a few days. In the meantime I suggest you stay resting for a few days,’ the doctor said calmly. ‘I will write you a prescription for some pain relief, but bare in mind they may make you drowsy.’

I nodded and warmly shook the man’s. ‘Thank you doctor,’ I answered smiling brightly at him.

‘Take care, Lady Warren,’ he said before Lucille showed him out and the room lapsed into to silence.

‘Thank heavens it was nothing worse,’ Mr Sharpe said in a relieved tone. ‘I think you got off lightly Ms Warren.’

I could barely stare at him but Henry quickly broke the silence.

‘Well we best be going then,’ Henry burst out suddenly.

‘What?’ Mr Sharpe and I both cried out utterly bewildered.

‘We must set tracks for London, Jo,’ Henry answered. ‘It is still early enough to set out.’

‘But you simply can’t!’ Mr Sharpe cried out. ‘Your sister is in recovery. You heard the doctor she needs rest, Henry!’

‘She can sleep in the carriage,’ Henry said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. ‘Besides I have other business to attend to back home in London.’

My eyes darted back and forth between the two men.

‘Well if you say so, Henry,’ Mr Sharpe conceded.

My heart fell. _Did he no longer want me here? It must have been the sight of my scarred, marked body. Or was it my hysterics at the thought of the asylum. My eyes stared up at the ceiling as I felt tears prick them._ I felt so foolish and ashamed.

_Did I really expect Thomas to stop or change his life here at Allerdale Hall? Did I suddenly expect to stay here with him or expect him to follow me to London? No, of course not. We were strangers who found an inexplicable calmness in one another- that was all. ‘A spark between us’ as Thomas said. Well, no more. Sparks are easily extinguished._

I heard the men make arrangements and thought they both had left as I started to get out of bed. I still felt slightly dizzy and immediately grabbed the bed post.

‘Are you alright, Ms Warren?’ Mr Sharpe asked, immediately coming to my side.

I smiled and nodded, trying to avoid his eyes. ‘Quite alright, thank you. And I think you’ve earned the right to call me by my first name, don’t you?’

Mr Sharpe blushed once more. ‘I – I guess so. Are you sure you’re alright? You are rather pale, Josephine’ his voice softly stumbling over my name in a warm tone. Perhaps I was only imagining it – maybe I was crazy.

‘Just a little lightheaded, Mr Sharpe,’ I answered quietly.

‘You must know you can call me Thomas by now, Josephine’ he said, his lip curling into a slow steady smile.

‘As you wish, Thomas. The doctor said light-headedness might happen’ I said briskly, trying to remain aloof. ‘I should get dressed. I believe my trunk is already packed.’

‘You both seem so eager to leave,’ Thomas said his tone dropping. ‘Am I such a poor host?’

‘Not at all, Henry will have much to do back in London’ I answered, beginning to walk slowly towards my trunk. A dark green dress was folded on top that I had placed there the night before. I picked it up and made to go to change next door.

However Mr Sharpe was suddenly standing before me, his body blocking my way. ‘Please stay, for just another night or two,’ he asked.

His blue eyes were silently pleading me to stay. I swallowed thickly as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Before I could let him draw away, I was gripping his coat lapels, refusing to let him go. My mind was utterly confused but my body knew what it wanted and was taking it. My lips locked with his and before I knew it he was gripping my hips, desperately pulling me closer to him. I groaned softly as he started kissing down my neck, hands slowly gripping my waist before moving, one hand curling around my back to hold me steady against him, the other snaking slowly towards my breasts. It curled around the top of my nightgown and gently tugged it down, partially exposing my breast.

A loud creak from the hallway broke the moment and Thomas immediately stopped his actions and stepped away from me. ‘Get in the bathroom, now!’ he whispered hurriedly, his face still flushed. He looked nervous and slightly scared. Knowing he was panicked I blindly obeyed stepping into the bathroom and closing the door softly behind me.

‘Ah Lucille!’ Thomas cried and I sighed in relief. I thought it had been Henry, Mr Sharpe – Thomas must have as well. I got dressed quickly. Listening to them talking outside with mild interest as I slipped off my nightgown.

‘Have I interrupted something, little brother? Your face looks rather flushed.’ I heard Lucille comment. _Oh fuck!_ I thought. _She knows!_

‘What? Oh no’ Thomas said, his voice impassive. ‘Ms Warren is just getting changed next door. I was about to bring her trunk down. It’s quite heavy. I must admit I’m exerted from trying to carry it towards the door!’

There was silence for a second and I felt my heart race as straightened out my dress. I realised I was still wearing my slippers but my dress would cover that anyway. ‘The carriage is ready to go, Finlay will take Josephine’s trunk down shortly, if you cannot. Henry is already waiting.’

‘Indeed, well I shall be down shortly,’ Thomas answered.

‘I apologise Thomas’ Lucille said her voice slightly higher. ‘I should know better than to think you were involved in anything untoward with _Lady_ Warren. So odd, did you see the markings all over her body when you pulled her from the tub? And all that shrieking earlier. It’ll be such a relief to have her gone. Clearly unbalanced. You can do much better, little brother.’

For a second I was struck dumb, her words catching me off guard, they were so unexpected and unprovoked. Yet her voice had an air of confidence to it, as though she was merely stating a fact and that it was made them so devastating. She calmly listed all my fault’s my personal insecurities and flaws for reasons to hate me, to mock me, to dismiss me from both their lives. I could only stand there.

‘Lucille!’ Thomas exclaimed. ‘Stop- ’

‘Oh, it’s quite alright. Now we have their money you can stop pretending to be nice to the crazed little bitch. Did you know she was institutionalized? Her brother told me earlier.’

I opened the door and stood staring at both the Sharpe’s. _Money, money money – that’s all they wanted._ I still had no words, I could only stare at them as my heart broke.

Lucille smiled maliciously. ‘Ah dearest, Jo. Glad to see you are awake. I made you tea. Drink it before it goes cold. It’ll warm you.’

She then left the room without another word her cold words then tearing through me sharp as ice.

‘Josephine, listen’ Thomas said, stepping towards me quickly.

I ignored him trying to reach the door quickly, my eyes brimming with tears. He stood before the door, ‘MOVE!’ I yelled and his eyes widened.

‘You lied to me,’ I whispered, finding tears spilling down my cheeks.

‘Briefly,’ Thomas answered, not moving but giving a curt nod.

‘You said you wanted more from me,’ I said, hating his honesty.

‘I do,’ he answered, his face rounded with hurt or was it in shame that I had overheard him and his sisters plans.

‘You only wanted my money,’ I said, pushing passed him roughly.

‘No, Josephine, wait!’ he called, but I walked briskly up the corridor ignoring him.

‘I SAID WAIT!’ he demanded in a harsh tone that made me pause in sudden shock.

I faced him slowly. ‘Was all this but a game, Thomas?’ I asked, refusing to cry even though it caused me every ounce of strength I had not to. ‘Keep me sweet until the very end of our trip – just in case Henry got cold feet, perhaps? I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucille has been flirting with Henry these last few days. You’re both despicable, desperate, money grabbing whores!’

‘No – it was more than that!’ he answered looking panicked yet doubtful. He was hiding something. I could see it in his eyes.

‘Just keep away from me, Mr Sharpe, please’ I said turning to walk away.

‘You need to know- ’

'I heard Lucille just now. I know enough. All of this, playing nice, acting loving – it’s all just for the money’

‘Jo? Are you coming down?’ Henry bellowed unexpectedly from some distant floor below.

‘Coming Henry!’ I answered.

‘Please, Josephine, it’s not like that,’ Thomas said, pleading with me, grasping my arm tightly. I pushed him roughly again, with surprising strength so that he let go.

‘Don’t – just don’t’ I said, merely looking at him in disgust. ‘Had a good laugh then? Poor institutionalised, scarred Josephine. Let’s make her feel special and take all her money- ’

‘It wasn’t like that - ’ Mr Sharpe said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

‘You have your money,’ I said bitterly. ‘And you won my affection, breaking my heart in the process. Congratulations. Now, I’ve had enough of you, of your sister and this godforsaken house. I’m going back to London.’

Mr Sharpe watched as I took the stairs hurriedly and marched straight out the door without a backwards glance. I sat in the carriage as the last of our belongings was packed and watched as Lucille emerged at the doorway to wave us off as was custom. She was smiling in an almost triumphant way. Mr Sharpe eventually joined the carriage to shake hands with Henry before departing. Henry sat in the carriage as Mr Sharpe wished us well. I looked into his blue orbs one last time.

‘Josephine, it was a pleasure having you here,’ he said through the carriage window. ‘This house will not be the same without you. I hope to see you again someday.’

‘Mr Sharpe,’ was all I could muster in response, nodding curtly before looking away, one tear finally escaping down my cheek.

The carriage began to move and I felt my heart tear as we trundled down the long stone driveway of Allerdale Hall. We travelled through the now familiar terrain of numerous untamed fields, long stretching muggy bogs and seemingly endless moors, speckled with a lightly fallen snow. I watched the view in silence, my head throbbing, my body weak and my heart broken. I was glad to be free of Allerdale hall, its strange atmosphere and the odd, cruel stare of Lucille. However, I would miss the tall, dark haired stranger who made me feel alive after years of numbing pain as Henry’s caretaker. I would miss Thomas’ shy smile, his porcelain skin, the taste of his lips – just to kiss them one more time. But no, he was cruel- crueller than even Lucille, for he had made me fall in love with him and I hated him for it.

Hours passed in silence before Henry finally spoke. He sat aside the newspaper he had been reading to fidget with his coat pocket. He took out a small book and handed it to me.

‘I nearly forgot, Mr Sharpe asked to give this to you,’ he said, before resuming his paper once more.

My eyes fell on my copy of Mary Wollstonecraft’s text, my fingers skimming the cover before opening the book’s cover. There was a note on the inside.

_Thank you for your company. I will never forget our short time together. Yours faithfully, Thomas._

My eyes filled as I flicked through the book. About half-way through in the middle was an envelope. Henry was busily flicking through his paper so I quickly read the outside of it. It was clearly written in haste, ink blots splattered the envelope and the ink had been smudged before it was given proper time to dry.

_Read only when alone.  Sir T. Sharpe._

 

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, 
> 
> Just want to warn readers this chapter contains strong language, possible triggers for physical abusive and some scene's of a sexual nature. Be warned.

Chapter Nine

 

**_Thomas’ POV_ **

Thomas watched as his guests retreated down the long driveway in their darkened carriage. He was unable to make out either Josephine’s or Henry’s face as they departed around the corner onto the main road. Thomas would never forget the look on Josephine’s face as he said his final goodbye. Her green eyes, though only briefly looking at him, were full of hurt and sorrow, yet were still mildly resigned as though she had truly expected no other outcome or treatment. It was clear she was a strong woman. She did not fight or pester Thomas when she discovered his deceit, she only wished to know the truth – no, she demanded to know the truth. She seemed to know by his face alone that he was hiding something. Surprisingly, she did not act-out or cause a scene as some women might have done. Nor was she malicious in retaliation as she could have easily shared what happened between them with her brother Henry who would have undoubtedly declared their contract void and withdraw all their funding completely. Thomas realised Josephine was not driven by money or greed, for in all their time together she showed little longing for material objects such as dresses or jewels. She also seemed unbothered by Thomas’ outdated clothes and crumbling mansion. She did not even ask about his full title - Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet. She was the first person in any family Thomas had mingled with who did not care about such things. This made Thomas feel all the worse in his guilt. No, Ms Warren was upset because he, Thomas, had lied to her and used her. It was a personal insult which Thomas knew to be all the more painful.

Thomas continued to watch the carriage retreat down the driveway and fade away into the landscape, before his thoughts were broken.

‘Thomas dear,’ Lucille called from the front door. ‘It’s getting rather cold, don’t you think? They’re gone now. Why don’t you come inside?’

For a brief moment Thomas ignored her. He stood firmly on the gravel, eyes scanning the barren horizon for any sign of their carriage. Briefly it seemed as though he would not turn around but would walk on, away from the mansion and away from his sister, to blindly follow the carriage’s path wherever it might take him.

‘Thomas?’ Lucille called again, louder this time, a rough edge to her voice.

Sighing he turned around and followed his sister back inside their private crumbling mansion where they would once again be alone.

For the next few days, life went back to its usual way in Allerdale Hall. Thomas showed no signs of pining after his guests and resumed his normal routine, with no change in his demeanour. During the day he was kept busy, reworking designs on the mines or creating orders for certain parts he needed. Lucille did not mention Henry or Josephine again, which was perhaps a good thing. Thomas was aware of Lucille’s rising resentment of Josephine. It was clear from her speech on the last day that she aimed to hurt the young woman and if she could not do so physically she would do so emotionally. Not that she hadn’t tried both ways. Not only was her verbal attack on Josephine a means to hurt her, but Thomas had also not forgotten that Lucille had brought Josephine tea during this moment. Yet when he broached the topic Lucille denied it outright.

‘I did no such thing, little brother,’ she said as they sat in front of the fireplace the following evening. ‘You must be confused.’

However when Thomas entered Josephine’s bedroom not long after Lucille fell asleep that night the tea set was still out, untouched, on the table though Josephine had long since left. In that moment, he was happy that Josephine was gone, for Lucille would be a danger to her if she stayed in this house. Thomas stayed in that room for some time, eventually lying in Josephine’s bed, and breathing in the faint remains of her scent as he dozed. She smelled like freshly cut grass with a hint of something deepier – smokier, like fire itself. It made him crave her all the more for she was so different from all he had ever know; wild and fierce yet at times shy and reserved. Thomas dwelled upon their last kiss as he lay in her bed. His mind mulling over every intense second of that brief moment; _I watched her swallow nervously but feeling brave and desperate to kiss her one last time before she left, I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She quickly gripped my coat lapels, refusing to let me go. Delighted by her boldness I gripped her hips, pulling her tight against my body, groaning as her mouth parted and our kiss intensified even more. I let my tongue dance with hers, hearing a soft desperate moan coming from the back of her throat as though she longed for this to never end. She gripped my hips boldly, pulling me towards her, seemingly wanting to drown in one another’s taste, touch and scent. I felt myself harden, my erection grinding against her middle. Embarrassed, I manoeuvred slightly and began to kiss down her neck, trying to control my wild desire to simply pull up her nightgown and have her right there in her room. She seemed unperturbed by my erection or perhaps she did not feel it, so desperate were her pretty little sighs and moans as I kissed further down her neck. I slowly curled one hand around her lower back holding her in place as another hand slid up her dress to her breasts, her body shivering immediately at my touch. My fingers deftly curled around the top of her nightdress before pulling the material down and partially exposing her breast._

_Oh Christ, I want this woman, her moans, her body, her heaving, glistening breasts as I pleasured her with my mouth. I could imagine the sweet taste of her arousal, growing more and more as my tongue found her clit and lapped at it with little gentleness. I could picture her back arching, her hands gripping my hair, pleading me to never stop, her moans and cries making me so hard, so wanton…_

Thomas woke a few short hours later alone and painfully hard on Josephine’s bed. He stayed there for some moments trying to push all wild thoughts from his mind and calm himself. He needed to touch himself, to find pleasure with his own hand yet it seemed futile to him and shameful as though it was a further insult to Josephine. She deserved to know his true feelings.

_She did not deserve to be discarded casually, like some dirty, seedy secret. Nor to be emotionally abused to obtain money and consequently keep silent for her family honour. No, my heart’s darling did not serve that._

Eventually he managed to rise and disposed of the tea Luciille had left for Josephine. He washed the set out thoroughly and hid it away once more in the kitchen before retreating to the top floor of the mansion to fall asleep once more.

Every night Thomas would habitually repeat the same routine and reappear in Josephine’s bedroom, long after Lucille had fallen asleep. He discovered she had left behind her a nightdress in the adjoining bathroom and to his shame Thomas clung to it as he fell asleep, like a child would a teddy bear. It offered him comfort and warmth. He often thought of Josephine in these private late night hours. Her genuine warmth and smile, her dazzling bright green eyes that seemed to grow lighter or darker depending on her mood and her laugh – her bright laugh that made it so hard for Thomas to believe that she had ever suffered a single day of sorrow. Yet he would never forget the marks that dotted her body. A beautiful lily she was - so strong yet so fragile in the wrong hands. It was then Thomas would take to pacing the bedroom floor as quietly as he could, worrying of her safety under her brothers’ care.

 _How I longed to be left alone with this man,_ Thomas thought unable to stand still when his mind dwelled upon him. _Henry was an abusive bully, a violent drunk and a coward who took his rage out on those nearest to him._ And that’s when it hit Thomas of why he hated this man so much. _Henry was just like my abusive father. Oh, how I longed to make him suffer as he had made Josephine suffer. I will find a way to make this man pay. Men like that deserve to rot. Josephine, strong as she was mentally, was no physical match for that brute. She feared being honest around him. She feared that being truthful would result in her return to the asylum. That very place that made her shiver, her skin pale and her very face contort in fear. Oh my sweet Josephine, what happened you in that place?_

For Josephine did not seem unbalanced to Thomas - quite the contrary, she was intelligent witty, confident and charming – at least until he mentioned the asylum. And, as Thomas knew, a long enough stay in there was enough to make the sanest of women distraught.

After a week or so Thomas grew more worried about Josephine for she had not answered his letter. Admittedly he wrote it hurriedly, but he thought at least she would have replied by now. He feared the worst in that either she was in danger from Henry or that she had been placed back into that horrible asylum.

However, it was Lucille who finally voiced the Warren’s over breakfast one morning. She seemed to be in a cheery mood, making Thomas’ favourite breakfast and humming merrily before sitting down to eat. Thomas knew Lucille was for now pacified by Josephine and Henry’s absence. She liked it best when the house was occupied just by them.

‘It’s been well over a week,’ Lucille said suddenly toying with her food. ‘And the Warren’s have yet to transfer the funds.’

Thomas, delighted she had broached the subject, nodded empathically. ‘I know. I need the funding to orders some new parts soon. Otherwise I really am wasting my time developing any new designs.’

‘I sent them three letters’ Lucille said, beginning to clear up her breakfast. It was clear she was eager to broach this topic. ‘Yet I haven’t had a single reply. It’s quite rude.’

‘Indeed,’ Thomas agreed, helping Lucille tidy up the remains of breakfast. ‘Yet what can we expect? Henry probably hasn’t had a sober day since his return to London.’

‘Perhaps we should pay them a visit - to remind them?’ Lucille suggested, starting to wash up the plates.

‘Yes that does seem like a good idea’ Thomas agreed, passing dirty dishes to her at the sink. ‘Perhaps only one of us should go though. Make out we just happened to be in London on other business and pop in for a chat – we don’t want to seem too forceful or desperate.’

Lucille paused briefly and Thomas’ heart seemed to beat at a fearfully fast pace. ‘Yes that’s true’ she admitted as Thomas looked relieved. ‘Perhaps you should go alone then. It is after all a man’s field of expertise.’

‘Would you be alright here by yourself?’ Thomas asked, his brow knitted in concern.

Lucille turned and smiled warmly at him, wiping her hand on a linen towel she then cupped Thomas’ cheek. ‘I’ll be fine, dearest.’

‘You are sure?’ Thomas asked, leaning in to her touch.

‘Of course,’ Lucille responded, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb. ‘Just a few days away mind you. You know I hate to be alone for too long. I’m sure you’ll find Henry in that Gentlemen’s club he mentioned. There will be no need to call to his house, understood?’

Thomas knew exactly what she meant by this: stay away from Josephine. ‘You know I’m only going to ensure the funding gets transferred Lucille. I can’t bear the thought of leaving you for any amount of time but this is for our future.’

Lucille face lit up in a dazzling smile, which briefly made her cold eyes shine. ‘Our future’ she repeated, seemingly satisfied by Thomas’ response.

The held each other’s stare in silence. ‘Go pack a bag,’ Lucille encouraged. ‘I expect you can catch this evenings train if you hurry.’

***

**_Josephine’s POV_ **

 

Our journey back to London was largely uneventful. We travelled in predominate silence; I lost in my thoughts, Henry no doubt mentally planning his next venture or night out in London. I knew Henry feared an angry outburst from me now that we were completely alone and was avoiding speaking to me because of it. For Henry had promised our stay at Allerdale Hall would be the start of a new future for the both of us. He swore he would better himself to secure this deal and its positive financial gains would knit us closer together, eclipsing his horrendous behaviour of the last two years. However, during the course of our stay at the Sharpe’s mansion Henry had descended into his former self quickly - he had been drunk, rude, brutish and violent. To top it all off he had invested in Mr Sharpe’s clay mines without even consulting me thus breaking every promise he made when setting out to the Sharpe’s mansion in the North. Truthfully, I did not care. Henry had so often promised to reform his ways that I had lost count of his futile attempts to behave well. He had always been unmanageable but since the passing of our father and sister, he grew even more erratic. I was accustomed of being let down by Henry and besides, what good would come of another argument with a man who was unreasonable? The bottom line was I needed Henry to survive – he provided a home, warmth and food. It sickened me to be dependent on such a man as this but alas, this was the world we lived in.

Currently I was not concerned about Henry’s behaviour even though he would every so often shoot an apologetic glance my way. It no doubt made him suspicious as usually my fiery temper would have revealed itself the moment we were alone. Yet he seemed unperturbed by my behaviour, perhaps blaming my silence on my head injury. I merely focused on looking busily out the window. My copy of Wollstonecraft’s text was gripped firmly in my hands, every so often opening it to look down and read the message Thomas - Mr Sharpe - had left on the inside cover. I was intrigued by the letter he had discreetly placed in the book but I could not risk opening it with Henry so near. Truthfully, I did not know whether I wanted to open it at all. For what could he say that could make any difference? No doubt he would apologise, try to explain and express his guilt. Yet it mattered not. The Sharpe’s invited us to their mansion to seduce us with charm, fine food and drink which I understood completely – every business man played the same plan to win over new investors. However, Mr Sharpe had lied to me, or at the least, was initially guided by a feigned interest in me, he admitted it. Lucille confessed that I was used as a means to further their gains. From our first encounter in his snowy driveway Thomas, like some actor in a play, lured me in and kept me sweet for money. Even if he developed true feelings for me, they were still tainted by his initial deceitful approach. I felt foolish, ashamed and cheap. I allowed myself to give in to feelings for Mr Sharpe, I shared some of my deepest secrets with him, I trusted him but for what?

_Did Thomas truly care for me as he confessed? Probably not. How could I be so blind? For why would he ever even consider me as a partner? I was disillusioned to believe it could happen. Perhaps I was truly crazy. All he wanted was money. That’s what it boiled down to – money. I was a product to be used in obtaining a financial goal. Thus surely I was no more than an idiot in his eyes – a naïve, sentimental fool to believe his sweet words. Men wanted money, they were driven by greed. Just look at Henry._

So I simply remained silent on our journey home, my mind dwelling on the last few days no matter how much I tried not to; the fleeting glances, the lustful dreams, his sensuous touch that made my body tingle, his kiss as passionate and wild as the mansion’s surrounding and finally, his smile a beautiful far reaching smile that lit up his cold blue eyes into a warm twinkling stare and made his face seem far more youthful, more carefree and endearingly shy.

_Oh Josephine, what have you done to yourself? You know better than to believe in love._

Henry was undeniably kind for our first days back home. Either he took my silence as a side effect of my accident in the tub or felt thoroughly guilty about his behaviour at Allerdale Hall but either way he insisted I take to resting for a day or two. He obtained my prescription from the nearest pharmacist and I took the pills to aid my frequent headache’s. However they had faded substantially so I stored the pills away in my bedside locker for they made me drowsy. My days of rest gave me time to think and I decided to force all memories of the Sharpe’s and Allerdale Hall from my mind. It was easier during the day to forget about them as I purposefully kept busy with the affairs we had neglected in our absence from home. I responded to Henry’s correspondence’s, I updated his diary with new meetings and affairs, I ran the household and responded to any letters we received. I fell back into my old role of life before the Sharpe’s with seemingly little change in my outward behaviour.

The nights were harder. I tried to keep busy right up to the moment I fell asleep by reading, writing or drawing but nothing worked. I was being driven mad by curiosity for I still had not opened Mr Sharpe’s letter as I saw it as holding on to what cannot ever be or, more achingly, what may even never have truly existed. I found myself using the pills prescribed for my headache to help me fall asleep at night. They were drowsy and stopped me from fritting away the late night and early hours of the day. I took them to simply sleep untroubled of dreams for my hearts inexplicable ache for Mr Sharpe. Yet those pills – my only comfort - would run out eventually. For now I enjoyed them and the escape they provided.  

After three days of seemingly quiet in our family home Henry returned one night roaring drunk and angry having lost a round of poker. I, not expecting him so early, had not yet have taken my pills and greeted him coldly, making him a sandwich and trying to keep out of his way. He however, took it upon himself to let his anger be felt at losing his poker game by berating me for letting the servant girl home early. I usually let her home early every night, for she was a young teenage girl who did not need to stay and wait on one person in the evenings. She was also a polite, friendly girl who should not witness the site of a drunken man stumbling into our house most nights.

‘What the fu-ck do we pay her for any-way?’ Henry hiccupped, wavering on the spot, before sitting at the table.

‘I told her to leave’ I responded calmly, not wishing the girl to be in any trouble come morning time. ‘I was planning on going to bed early, it seemed unnecessary for her to stay on.’

‘You don’t make decisions Jo, I do’ Henry said waspishly, his dull eyes livid but suddenly focused on me. I stepped back, plate and tea in hand, eying him warily. ‘And if I want the staff to stay late, then they stay late. Ye’ve to all obey the head of the household.’

‘As you wish, Henry,’ I forced out through clenched teeth, moving forward and setting down his sandwich and tea in front of him. ‘I’ll be sure to let the staff know’ I added before turning my back and attempting to leave the kitchen. The stench from Henry was overwhelming; stale tobacco, sweat and booze. I longed to escape from his company.

‘Where you going, Jo?’ Henry asked, his voice echoing round the kitchen. ‘Not gonna stay an’ chat with your dear ol’ brother?’

I exhaled deeply. ‘I’m tired’ I muttered, praying Henry would leave me go. I pulled my nightgown tighter around me. ‘I was just about to go to bed.’

‘You’d stay with that Thomas lad though, wouldn’t you?’ Henry blurted out behind me. I temporarily paused, Henry had not spoken a single word about Mr Sharpe or Allerdale Hall since our return to London. ‘You’d stay for a chat with him, wouldn’t you Jo? Do anything for him, you dirty little slut.’

I swallowed thickly, trying to drown out his crude words by closing my eyes. ‘I see, well if that is what you truly think of me, then I best get out of your way.’

‘Not just me, Lucille thinks so too. Don’t think we didn’t notice you starin’ at him up in that house, we talked ‘bout it.’

My fists clenched at my sides but I forced a deep steady breath. ‘Oh, I know’ I lied, trying to stay calm and not as though is words made my face redden in shame. ‘And I know you told Lucille about me’ I continued, my voice wavering but trying to remain outwardly unbothered.

‘Had too,’ Henry blurted out. ‘See Lady Sharpe seemed to think you had a thing for Thomas. She seemed interested in your status. So I says to her that you were in the madhouse.’

‘Why?’ I answered, still standing still with my back to Henry, glad he couldn’t see my expression. _So it was Henry who told Lucille Over the last few days I blamed Thomas for having told her, but no, it was my own brother who provided Lucille with the only legitimate excuse she had to drive me away and shame me. If it wasn’t for that, I could have left Allerdale hopeful and ignorant of the Sharpe’s true intentions. In short had Henry not blabbed, I could have at least parted from Mr Sharpe in good terms._ ‘Why did you have to tell her, Henry?’

‘I couldn’t have my sister been taken all ways up North and leavin’ me alone’ Henry said in a slightly muffled wat as he had started eating. ‘Least now - you know. You’ve been pinin’ ‘way for a man who thinks you’re a crazy cunt. Why would he ever like you – I keep tellin’ you you’re damaged, Jo. No one wants you. You’re safest ‘ere with me. So I told her that I only brought you with me ‘cuz you can’t be left alone.’

‘That’s a lie Henry!’ I exclaimed, feeling my temper rise and my face redden.

‘Well I had to tell her something, thought she was giving me the eye,’ he explained, his voice slurred and shaken, but the smug edge prevalent. ‘Thought if I told her all about my mentally disturbed sister she would be all over me in sympathy’ he admitted bluntly.

‘You’re despicable,’ I muttered, straightening out and standing upright. I forced a smile on my face as I swiftly looked at him. ‘Lucille only wants our money, you complete idiot,’ I continued, feeling a slight rush of satisfaction. ‘She was only nice to you for that. She wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot barge pole’ I finished, turning my back on him with a surprisingly level of coolness.

‘Oi Jo, who the fuck do you think you’re speakin’ to?’ Henry hollered from behind me.

‘Good night, Henry,’ I ignored him and continued to walk on when a dark object hurtled over my head and hit the concrete wall above the doorframe. The mug of hot tea, partially flecked onto my back and head before hurtling against the wall with an almighty crash which echoed around the kitchen. It hit the ground and cracked into pieces, shards of porcelain and hot tea spilling onto the marble tiles. I flinched at the noise but tried to remain calm. I went to pick the pieces of porcelain up and discard them with shaking hands.

‘Didn’t I tell you I was the head of the household?’ he berated behind me. ‘You listen to me, you respect me.’

I continued to pick up the shards of porcelain, ignoring Henry. Next thing I knew I was being pulled from the floor by my hair. ‘I’m going to have to teach you who’s boss round ‘ere. Why do you make me do this, huh?’ he growled, pulling my hair tighter and dragging me out of the kitchen by my hair. ‘Why can’t you just listen…you never fuckin’ listen.’ My scalp felt stretched and my healing head wound stung unmercifully so that I could not hold in my cries and whimpers as he dragged me up the stairs.

That night was painfully long, Henry’s temper reigning until the early hours of the morning. Once finally satisfied and fallen asleep, I despairingly managed to pull him into his bed with a considerable amount of effort. Exhausted and upset I retreated to my bedroom where I shakingly washed myself down, wincing at the new marks now on my body. My scars mere reminders of the cost of my provider’s power over me. Once done I sat on the end of my bed for some time realising Henry would never cease to change, nor would I ever escape this home. This was my life, my reality. I took more pills than needed, forcing myself into a deep untroubled and thus peaceful sleep.

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the wise Dr. Alan McMichael once warned Edith so I warn you lovely readers for this chapter, please proceed with caution. This chapter reveals more about Jo's past and can be eerie/scary for some readers.

Chapter Ten

Days passed. I would spend them largely attempting to recover from the night before. Henry’s brutish behaviour had escalated so much that I no longer dared to venture outside for fear I would arouse suspicion. No doubt my appearance would draw attention of the worst kind and I would risk being placed back into the asylum. It had been at least a year since Henry’s temperament had spiralled out of control so badly. I had no other option but to stay indoors and wait it out like it were a hideous storm. I fought as I always tended to do, but in the end I was silenced both physically and verbally. The verbal abuse grew worse than ever. I would sit listening to Henry’s garbled nonsense for hours on end. Sometimes I would stare him in the eyes whilst trying not to cry as he hurled abuse into my face or blamed me for his troubled life. I learned he blamed me for Lucille’s rejection of him – a completely fictitious idea of course, yet he resolutely believed it. He yearned for a wife – for the chance to be as our father once was; to be respected, loved and to be acknowledged as a hard worker. Yet all these things he would never be or could he hope to accomplish. He was cruel and violent. At other times I would fall asleep only to be roughly shaken awake by Henry once more until he tired himself out or more than likely, he would drink himself unconscious.

During the day Henry would go to work, meetings or most likely socialise with his friends leaving me alone. I discovered in these hours that Henry had severed all ties with the Sharpe’s. Two letters arrived from them inquiring as to when they can expect their promised money to be transferred into their account, but Henry did not reply and refused to allow me to. Truthfully I did not know what to feel about this. We made a commitment to the Sharpe’s and felt we should do the honourable thing and stand by it. However, I could not force Henry to do this. Additionally, I was conflicted by my feelings for Thomas Sharpe.

Night after night Henry would tell me how worthless I was, laugh at the idea that someone such as Thomas could love me and tell me that I was unlovable. I began to gradually believe Henry as when you hear something said to you enough times you inevitably begin to believe it. I began to loathe myself as Henry’s words seeped deeper and deeper into my psyche.

_Everyone that loved me was dead. There was no one left. How could I be sure that I even knew the real Thomas? Maybe I loved the façade he presented or maybe I loved the attention and connection to another human being. Did I even know the true Thomas?_

As more days passed I found myself believing in growing certainty Henry’s words. _Henry knew me better than anyone and if he did not love me then how could Thomas – how could anyone?_

‘Think they can walk all over hard working families like us,’ Henry slurred one evening after rereading the Sharpe’s letter for the fourth time aloud. I rolled my eyes for Henry did not know what a hard day’s work was. ‘Takin’ us for bloody fools! And that slut of a sister throwin’ herself at me - ’

I snorted with laughter and quickly turned it into a cough. As far as I could remember Lucille had barely spoken to Henry and even on that rare occasion it was usually an attempt to discreetly inquire for information on me. Furthermore if I was unlovable than so was Henry – arguably even more so than I was and certainly he was unloved by Lucille.

‘Somethin’ funny, Jo?’ Henry suddenly barked from the far side of the living room. I noticed he was holding a glass tumbler of whiskey which was shaking slightly in his grasp. Before I could even answer he stumbled on, ‘Cuz I don’t know why you’re laughin’ so much. Thomas as good as fucked you over just to get me to sign the papers and transfer the money. You know that right?’

I glared at Henry. ‘I should go to bed now,’ I answered through clenched teeth. ‘You’re talking utter nonsense again.’

‘Oi, Jo!’ Henry called but I already had left the room and was making my way to the stairs. I aimed to race my bedroom and hopefully move my desk in front of the door to lock myself in. However Henry was far quicker than I anticipated and quickly yanked me back by my hair before I reached the third step. ‘Where you rushin’ off to, huh?’ he asked, his hot breath tumbling across the back of my neck. I retched at the smell of stale sweat and alcohol. ‘You always run off when I talk of Thomas. What’s the matter? You miss your boyfriend?’

‘Henry, stop it!’ I said, finding a surprising level of calm in my voice. The utterance of Thomas’ name aloud had sparked his image in my mind and filled me with a rush of a warm emotion that I did not recognise. ‘You know full well I’m leaving because you’re being crass!’ I began to twist out of his grip, but his hands went to my waist and he quickly pulled me down a step. Caught off guard, I lost my footing and stumbled. He used this moment to press me forcefully against the wall, my back hitting off one of the many gilded portraits that lined the staircase. ‘Henry!’ I exclaimed, suddenly panicked now by his surprising rush of force.

‘Let’s play, Jo’ Henry said, his eyes lighting up.

I pushed forcefully against his chest, ignoring the rising bile filling my stomach. Henry laughed and gripped my wrists easily. ‘What’s that game they used to play in the looney bin…Dr Conrad mentioned it…’

‘Henry, please!’ I begged, unashamed and starting to tremble. _Not the game, not that game..._

_My mind flashed back to where I could hear the laughter – the hysterical laughter of inmates approaching down a narrow corridor, their footsteps echoing loudly as they drew closer. I was hiding in a janitor’s closet. There was a humming coming from somewhere – was it the inmates? That tune…I knew that tune from somewhere. I was shaking, I wanted to desperately leave the janitors closet but I was too scared to open the door and see what I would find._

‘Ah, ah, ah’ Henry scolded bringing me back to the present. I realised I was sweating profusely. He cornered my body forcefully against the wall with his own. He started to hum quietly and I felt myself buckle against the wall as my heart began to palpitate.

‘Henry, please don’t do this,’ I pleaded, openly sobbing, my usual attempt at bravado vanishing now. I wanted to drown out that god awful tune. ‘Don’t do this, please Henry.’

Henry continued to hum, his mouth splitting into a hideous lopsided smile before he opened his mouth and exhaled. ‘That’s the tune isn’t it? A nursery rhyme it was … Now I remember, they wanted to play “The Push Game”, didn’t they?’

I was barely listening to Henry. His humming pulled me deeper back into my memory _; hiding in the closet I could hear them drawing closer. ‘ “Count to three, little doe. Count to three and then come out and play. Or we will find you and make you play.” The janitor’s door was opening slowly, a crack of grimy light peering through the darkness. “Do you know “the push game” little doe?’ More laughter and then the singing started._

“ _Goosey goosey gander” one began to sing slowly, fingernails slowly scraping across the door now as I trembled in the far corner. “Whither shall we wander? Upstairs and downstairs, And in your lady's chamber,” one continued to sing as the others laughed. I knew they wanted to play…_

I whimpered, forcing myself back to the present – to Henry. ‘No, please, just stop, Henry. We can talk – let’s go back into the living room and talk. I’m sorry I walked out – tell me about Lucille’ I realised I was stumbling through my words my breath in short pants as though I had been running. Or as though I were back in the asylum dreading that they’d find me.

 _And they did find me, pulling me from the closet by my arms, my legs dragging across the floor as I screamed and tried desperately to get away from them. But they continued to sing._ “ _Here we met a young woman, Who wouldn't say her prayers, So we took her by her left leg, And threw her down the stairs.’ They were taking me to the stairs…_

Henry’s smile vanished. ‘I don’t want to talk about that bitch,’ he muttered, once again snapping me back to the present. ‘Nor that snobbish, desperate leech Thomas - ’

‘STOP IT!’ I suddenly screamed causing Henry to freeze, his grip temporarily lessening. My mind snapped. _How dare he!? Thomas was not bad – no not evil at least, not like some of the others in the asylum were._ Suddenly my past and present were fusing together through Henry which caused my body to fizzle in anger. _I had seen true evil and desperate leeches. Thomas was neither._

Henry smirked. ‘So quick to defend a man that made a fool out of you. You think he _even_ liked you. Men like him marry good breeds – women who are loyal, obedient and _sane_ ’ he whispered the last word right in front of my face so delicately yet full of unrestrained amusement. ‘Not some wild, uncontrollable brat. He doesn’t like you – or else he’d be here by your side right now’ I felt myself slump even further against the wall, only Henry’s grip holding me up as his words sank in slowly. ‘He’d fuck you and leave you – if he hasn’t already. Did he, Jo?’

My eyes widened at the blunt question but I remained silent and slightly terrified – the look in Henry’s eyes crazier than usual. ‘Or did you fuck him?’

I forced a smirk. Thomas’ name was the only light right now in a sea of horrible memories of evil people. It made me feel warm and suddenly secure. I was not hiding in a closet in the asylum, I was here dealing with the moronic Henry. I suddenly realised he did not frighten me. ‘Do I detect jealousy, brother?’ I queried lightly and completely unabashed.

Henry gripped me tightly once more his eyes widening at the change in my demeanour. ‘Stupid whore,’ he snarled and I laughed maddening him further. He then quickly head-butted his forehead against my nose causing me to cry and temporarily lose my vision as my eyes watered in pain. I felt something warm gush across my mouth and knew my nose was now bleeding and possibly broken.

‘You make me do this, Jo’ Henry said. I tried to ignore the throbbing pain from my nose as he straightened his hair out quickly, though I noticed blood on it – my blood. ‘Your smart mouth will be the death of you. Men like Thomas are ruthless, loyal to their own and full of nothing but dreams.’

‘In short, all the things you lack, you pathetic _fool_ ’ I spat out through a blood filled mouth despite the pain it caused. I felt a slight rush of satisfaction at the shocked look on Henry’s face before he raged. _Thomas was everything which Henry was not._

Henry looked livid, his grip so tight on my body I could feel his nails digging into my skin. ‘When will you stop fighting this?’ Henry asked, his voice trembling with rage. I took a deep breath waiting for the final blow. ‘When will you learn to just obey?’

I exhaled and smiled openly at Henry through blood stained teeth. ‘Never’ I answered confidently. I watched as Henry raised his right hand before it swept down and connected with the side of my head so roughly that I do not remember anything more, just Henry’s howl of anger as I fell and darkness took me.

***

‘Ms Warren?’ a young, sweet female voice called softly from somewhere behind me. I smiled the tone briefly reminded me of my sister. _How soothing…_

‘Ms Warren?’ she repeated calmly. I then suddenly realised it was not my sister. Of course it wasn’t – she had passed away. It was Annie, our housemaid.

I sighed and stretched out on the bed, wincing at the throbbing pain from the left side of my face and nose. Suddenly all of what happened came rushing back to my mind just as the maid touched my shoulder. ‘Wake up, Ms Warren,’ she encouraged now by my bedside as she through open the curtains wide.

I flinched at the touch and immediately sat up right on the bed, blinking stupidly in the daylight. _Henry must have placed me here at some point last night_ , I realised dryly. _Just how long was out? The last thing I remembered was his fist colliding with the side of my face._

‘It’s alright, Ms – only me,’ Annie said kindly but suddenly clasped her mouth in open horror as she finally got a glimpse of me. ‘Oh Ms Warren! What ‘appened to your face?’

I shrugged and slowly stood up, forcing a smile. ‘It’s nothing, Annie sweetheart. What time is it?’

‘Just gone lunchtime Ms,’ Annie whispered, still staring at me shocked. ‘Enry said to let you lie in this mornin’. ‘E said you wasn’t feelin’ yourself … did ‘e … do that?’ she pointed at my face which I guess was a bloody, swollen mess.

I looked at Annie sadly. She was a rather pretty young thing – no more than sixteen, with perfect golden hair tied back in an elegant bun. Her wide brown eyes looked like that of a doe. I nodded and she gasped.

‘Oh Ms Warren!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought things was getting better ‘tween you both?’

Annie had seen some of Henry’s work before and on many occasions was subject to his verbal abuse. She was the only other person who knew what he was truly capable of and there was no need to lie to her about it. She was the closest thing to a friend I had but I would never admit it. Henry did not permit me to have friends and if he suspected Annie was one he would fire her right away. Therefore I treated Annie with a little more formality than was necessary to ensure she knew to see me as her employer. It was the only way to keep her job and well-being intact from one of Henry’s rages.

‘They were for a time Annie, but you know how it goes – Henry always falls off the wagon sooner or later,’ I answered as confidently as I could, smiling as though it were merely a trifle annoyance.

‘ ’Ow bad was it this time Ms?’ Annie asked, tears brimming in her doe like eyes.

Feeling slightly conflicted I shrugged. ‘Never you mind,’ I said rather coldly causing her eyes to widen. I hated being so cold but also knew that no good could come of informing Annie of exactly what occurred last night or she too could end up bloody and bruised. ‘I don’t pay you to gossip idly now, do I?’

‘Of course Ms – I just was worried ‘bout you,’ Annie answered lowering her gaze, a slight tremble in her voice.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. ‘Well know your place, you foolish girl. Now I shall go and draw a bath. Please clean my room and prepare my lunch in my absence - that is, if you can handle such simple requests?’

‘Yes, Ms Warren,’ Annie replied with a curt nod and a slight courtesy. ‘Of course. Right away.’

I was just about to leave the room when she called again. ‘Ms Warren?’

I paused and saw her trembling hands were holding up a bloodstained pillow case. ‘Yes?’ I answered tearing my gaze from the pillow case to look at her.

She swallowed, her sorrowful expression making my own eyes fill. _I most look pretty bad for Annie to be overcome with such distress. Hell, I felt bad. I was dirty, hurt and utterly alone._

‘I – I nearly forgot to mention,’ Annie began to explain in the same slightly trembling voice. ‘A letter arrived from a Sir Thomas Sharpe this morning – addressed to you Ms. The envelope was so wet -  must ‘ave been dropped by the postman or somethin’. Anyway, the corner of it was peelin’ away Ms, so beggin’ your pardon, but I opened it.’

I gripped the doorframe tightly. ‘You had no right, you idiot girl!’ I exclaimed lividly, feeling both bereft and angry all at once.

‘I know Ms but you were sleepin’ and ‘Enry just left – I ‘ad to open it before the ink became too blotchy to read. This chap or Baronet, well ‘e seems awfully worried ‘bout you-‘

‘Silence!’ I shouted, holding one hand up to show I wanted her to cease speaking at once. ‘You will not speak of it to me. Throw the letter away.’

‘But Ms, I was thinkin’, this man might be able to ‘elp you with ‘Enry – or if not well, I can. Please Ms Warren. ‘E can’t keep doing this and then for you to push us away,’ she begged shaking the blood stained pillow case to prove her point, ‘It ain’t right!’

I looked at it sadly. ‘Don’t you see Annie?’ I sighed turning my back to her. ‘It’s precisely because Henry is doing this that you both must stay away.’ I then left as Annie stared after me in a solemn silence.

After my bath I felt somewhat better, my head though sore was not cut but my nose was heavily bruised and other slight bruising spread out under my eyes also. I did not think it was broken as when I tenderly felt it, it felt smooth but remained heavily swollen even after all the blood was washed away. I took my time bathing, relishing the warm water against my sore and tired limbs, all the while thinking of Henry and wondering what fresh hell tonight would bring. At least now I had renewed confidence, an inner talisman to protect me at least mentally from succumbing to Henry’s rage – the image of Sir Thomas Sharpe. It was proof that true evil did not reside in every man. That’s all I needed to carry on - just hope. Even if he did not love me, he gave me hope. Eventually I left the tub as the water turned icy cold. I was wrapping a towel around me when there was a knock on the door.

‘Yes?’ I asked, shivering slightly on the cold tiles as I ran my fingers through my damp, tangled curls.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, Ms,’ Annie’s voice called, a little higher than usual which made me feel slightly guilty. _Had I frightened the girl so much that she was now scared of talking to me? If so, then I was no better than Henry._ ‘There’s a gentlemen at the door.’

‘Who is it? And what on earth does he want?’ I asked, frowning slightly. Henry’s friends rarely called around this house and all business appointments or meetings were usually pre-arranged.

Annie paused slightly. ‘Erm, I didn’t catch ‘is name Ms,’ she answered in a breathy voice. ‘e says it’s got to do with business.’

‘Well send him away, Annie,’ I answered in a brisk tone. ‘Henry isn’t here, nor are we expecting company. Please inform him to make an appointment to meet.’

‘But Ms, I can’t. ‘e says it’s rather urgent,’ she said a little forcefully. ‘Says ‘e won’t leave until ‘e – until ‘e …’

‘Until what Annie?’ I snapped growing irritated.

‘Until ‘e’s heard out Ms,’ she eventually replied.

‘Fine!’ I snapped dropping my towel and wrapping myself in a long dressing gown. ‘Then tell him I’ll be down in a bloody moment!’

‘Yes Ms!’ Annie’s voice answered timidly and I heard her scamper off hurriedly.

Quickly throwing on slippers and trying to smooth out my wild hair, I crossed the bedroom without so much as a look at my reflection.

I _would simply tell him to leave,_ I thought as I crossed the landing _. Just inform him I injured myself by falling in the back garden. Surely he would leave without further inquiry. Surely he would believe me?_

I began down the stairs barely noticing who was waiting in the hallway when a voice made me freeze on the stop.

‘Ms Warren?’ a deep voiced queried gently from the end of the stairs. A voice I would never forget.

My head immediately glanced at the source of the voice. Mr Sharpe was standing at the end of the stairs, looking impeccably dressed in a well-tailored suit and a travel coat folded neatly over his arms. Yet I knew these items to be at least a decade old, but well taken care of. His tall, lithe frame was out of place in my house. My heart seemed to stop beating yet my body flooded with warmth.

_Why was he here? Was this a dream?_

I gripped the banister tightly as I stared at his porcelain face, his blue eyes dazzling, a shy smile playing openly on his mouth that is until he glimpsed at my face.

Panicking, I could feel my mouth go dry. I gripped the banister tighter. _Why was he here? Was this some new horrid trick designed by Henry?_

‘What happened to you Josephine?’ Mr Sharpe demanded, his face no longer smiling but livid.

I stepped back on the stairs. ‘I fell,’ I muttered immediately looking away. _No, this wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t see me like this._ ‘Henry is not here, Mr Sharpe. I suggest you make an appointment. Annie please see Mr Sharpe out’ I demanded and retreated up the stairs. _He did not wish to see me. He only wanted the money that was promised to him. He did not love me._

However, Mr Sharpe quickly followed, gripping my hand as I crossed the landing. ‘What has happened?’ he repeated causing me to pause in my tracks.

‘I fell,’ I answered, my back to him. _I could not look at him. No._

‘Look at me,’ he asked softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. His touch felt warm and familiar. I hesitated, my hand lightly gripping his in return.

For a second I considered fleeing once more. He was not holding me forcibly in place, no he was leaving it up to me. This was rather calming in a way – having a choice. Slowly I faced him. His blue eyes were focused on my face. ‘Oh Josephine,’ he whispered, his expression utterly sorrowful. One of his hands slowly rose to my face, his long, slim fingers tracing the bruising. I hissed as he brushed off my nose and stepped back.

‘It was Henry, wasn’t it?’ he asked in a forced calm tone. His trembling curled fists gave him away.

‘I fell,’ I repeated dully. ‘Please go. Henry will be home soon. If he should know you were here he’d- ’ Yet I dare not meet his stare. _How could I look at the man I loved and see no love in his eyes for me in return? It was beyond any pain Henry was capable of inflicting._ _Henry! He would be outraged to know Mr Sharpe was in the house._

‘He’d what?’ demanded Mr Sharpe roughly.

‘He’d … your presence here would only make things worse,’ I answered honestly, my tone turning cold. ‘Please go. I will be fine.’

‘But Josephine- ’

‘Just go!’ I snapped, stepping away from him. I was staring to panic now. _What if Henry hurt Mr Sharpe or Annie?_ ‘He’ll be home soon. You have to go now!’

‘As you wish,’ Mr Sharpe said softly. His eyes casted over mine almost regretfully as though registering the panic in my own. ‘I will return once I arrange a meeting with Henry. I do not wish to make whatever is going on here worse.’

I moved towards the stairs once more, indicating it was time for him to leave. ‘You can’t possibly make it worse,’ I whispered. ‘Now, please go.’

He passed me quickly and descended the stairs. I noticed Annie was lingering in the hallway, no doubt trying to overhear us. ‘Annie, you may also go for the day,’ I called down the stairs.

She looked up at me perplexed. ‘But Ms ‘Enry said I ‘ad to stay until- ’

‘Henry’s not here,’ I answered. ‘And I have no further use for you today. Please leave.’

‘As you wish Ms Warren’ Annie answered with a curt bob of her head. I watched her quickly grab her coat from its hook in the hallway. Mr Sharpe sat aside his travel coat and helped Annie place her neat black coat on quickly. He seemed to sense that it were urgent for them to leave. Henry would indeed be livid to see him here unchaperoned. Once done he glanced up the staircase, his eyes were fixated on mine at the top of the stairs.

‘Just go,’ I pleaded, tears starting to pierce my eyes.

‘I will return,’ Mr Sharpe said as Annie opened the front door. ‘Josephine, I will return. Schedule a meeting with Henry and let me know urgently when it is for.’

I nodded. ‘Of course,’ I answered, trying to sound distant. I had hoped he would say he loved me or at least say he was happy to see me but he did not. Perhaps he feared upsetting my agitated state further.

 _Or perhaps he truly does not love you,_ a voice in my mind argued. _How could he love a creature so damaged and broken?_

‘Goodbye, Mr Sharpe,’ I said quietly.

He stared at me as though wanting to say something else. However a full moment slipped by in silence before he simply turned away without another word. Without even a goodbye. I fought for him. I became braver for him. Yet it was all for naught. He didn’t even say goodbye. The door closed with a sharp bang. I was alone once again.

I sat on the stairs, my back resting against the wall feeling numb until I heard Henry come home.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

When Henry came home I was still sitting on the stairs, back against the wall, in complete darkness. I heard him call out for Annie as he came through the back entrance in the kitchen. When that warranted no response I heard him call out for me. I ignored him. I did not want to talk to or even see Henry right now. Thomas’ earlier presence reminded me of just how much I hated Henry. I hated this miserable life. I hated the constant fear that came with living with an abusive drunk.

‘Jo!’ Henry called from the kitchen but I ignored him.

It was the same as the asylum really – _escaping one confined institution and placed in another_. I wanted out of this dark pit Henry had carved for me here in our home since our family passed. Things had changed so quickly from that moment – from the moment Henry broke the news that both our father and sister were dead. From then on my life had changed and sleep disorders, such as nightmares and sleepwalking became the norm. I would wake up, dripping in sweat and shivering only to see a woman at the end of my bed.

_The first time it happened, I did not scream. I thought it were Death itself and I were glad to follow it to wherever my father, mother and sister rested. In all the old stories I heard growing up, Death had been a man. Yet here it appeared and clearly was a woman. How strange._

_I got out of bed slowly all the while staring at the woman. Moonlight seeped through my bedroom window and illuminated the figure. She wore a long black dress and was short in stature. Her face was covered by a black veil but a wisp of honey coloured hair fell down in a single ringlet upon her chest. The sight was familiar, yet I did not fully understand why._

_She was beckoning me forward with a glove-clad hand. I stepped towards her – half expecting her to speak but she merely turned her back and eerily moved toward the door. Her feet made no noise upon the floor. Looking down I could not tell whether she wore shoes or went barefoot for her dress trailed along the floor behind her. I followed her, my feet padding as quietly as possible as she led me down the stairs through the hallway and into the kitchen. All the while I silently prayed I would not fall or stumble for I was literally following darkness, only blind hope guiding me. She stopped by the backdoor of the kitchen._

_‘Do you want to go outside?’ I asked, cocking my head to the side. She nodded slowly._

_I reached for the key on the hook by the door and opened it silently. She passed out of the door and into the back garden. I followed her, now clearly seeing her silently moving form wander eerily across the garden, all of which was illuminated in a ghostly moonlit glow. She stopped outside the coal shed and faced me once again._

_‘Do you want me to go inside the coal shed?’ I asked, my heart now only beginning to race. Up to this point I felt no fear, only curiosity for this figure had not attempted to harm me in any way. Yet now, my gut instinct was to run, for whatever she wanted to show me I instinctively knew I did not want to see._

_The woman shook her head, yet pointed firmly at the door with one short, yet bony finger covered in a silk black glove._

_I shook my head ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, my response creating grey wisps of tendrilled smoke to coil upwards into the cold late night air. ‘I don’t understand.’_

_The figure once again pointed at the coal shed. I followed her bony direction and realised it was not the coal shed she was pointing at but the ground beneath its door. Something was oozing out of there…something dark…_

I heard Henry smash something in the kitchen, immediately breaking my thoughts. Perhaps Henry had accidentally knocked over something with his drunken trembling hands or maybe it was on purpose, like a spoiled child creating havoc for attention. Either way I did not care.

Henry always found me in the end… _he discovered me that night too, screaming in the midnight air in our back garden as the black clad figure ghosted closer to me as though angry I did not understand it’s intended meaning. Henry had quickly found me and silenced me, covering my entire face with his grubby hand and dragging me back inside the house, the black figure vanishing behind him in a sudden gust of wind. I remember seeing that woman many more times, sometimes she was accompanied by a much taller figure who was also dressed in black. Most of the time I ignored them, yet they never stopped trying to lure me to the back garden, to the coal shed. Upon telling Henry he quickly called in doctors. I was asked multiple questions; nothing seemed too trivial to account for my ‘luancy’. I was asked about my diet, my daily regime, even my menstrual cycle was all noted. In the end, Henry acquired Dr. Conrad to assess me after one particularly bad night where I was discovered trying to open the coal shed with my bare hands. Scratch marks were deeply embedded in the door, my nails and fingers bloody and scraped. Henry was furious and I was petrified upon discovering what I had unconsciously tried to do. That following day I was sent to the City of London Asylum._

Henry stumbled into the hallway, light gradually illuminating the narrow long corridor. ‘Where are you, Jo?’ he called out. He paused by the stairs and looked up at me warily. No doubt finding my sudden appearance and silence unsettling. ‘Jo, is that you?’

‘Who else would it be?’  I answered my voice shaking slightly. ‘It is just you and I, Henry. As you always wanted.’

Henry brows shot up quizzically, his muddy bloodshot eyes looking at me doubtfully. ‘What the ‘ell?’ he slurred, looking at me as though he had misheard me. ‘Where’s Annie? I’m starvin’. There better be a dinner in the oven Jo, or so ‘elp me.’

I laughed – the noise distant and foreign in my very own ears. ‘Well dearest brother, Annie was ill, so I sent her home. And frankly I couldn’t give a fuck about serving dinner to a drunk fiend. So ‘elp me!’ I added, mimicking his gruff tone before barking out another strange laugh.

‘What the fuck ‘as gotten into you?’ Henry snarled from the hallway, glaring at me like he would tear me apart with his bare limbs at any second. ‘Get down here and fix dinner before I whip you into next week for your cheek!’

I shrugged and leaned back against the stair wall. ‘No,’ I answered firmly.

‘No?’ he repeated, sounding dazed.

‘No,’ I confirmed, trying not to snigger at the bewildered expression on his face.

‘NO?!’ Henry snarled, charged further up the hallway. He paused at the seat at the end of the stairs, his eyes falling upon an item. He picked it up, his hand shaking in frustration. ‘Let’s just see…hang on. This isn’t my coat, Jo.’

Briefly distracted by his changed tone, I looked down only to see him holding Thomas’ coat.

_Thomas must have left it behind him earlier in his desperate attempt to leave quickly!_

I swallowed thickly and very slowly attempted to stand up.

‘Who owns this coat, Josephine?’ Henry asked turning towards me at the end of the stairs, the rising anger prevalent in his tone.

‘It must be yours’ I answered quietly and made my way downstairs acting as calm as possible. ‘Perhaps Annie left it out earlier, poor girl. She was very unwell. She must have discovered it during her morning clean. Well I should start dinner,’ I said calmly as I passed Henry. I was halfway down the hallway when Henry spoke once again.

‘You just said you wouldn’t make dinner,’ Henry said, his voice rushed full of renewed anger.

I forced a light laugh, which was calmer this time, more natural. ‘Honestly Henry! I was only joking. You know I will always serve you’ I felt sickened at my own words, but what else could I do? _He must not know Thomas was here._

‘Jo!’ Henry barked from behind me.

‘Yes Henry?’ I queried lightly, forcing a smile on my face as I turned to face him slowly. ‘Tell me, what would you like for dinner? I could make your fav- ’

‘This is Thomas Sharpe’s,’ Henry hissed, his eyes daring at mine. ‘He was ‘ere earlier, wasn’t he?’

I laughed once more. ‘Nonsense! The Sharpe’s live far up North, Henry. What makes you think that?’

‘This coat is about ten years out of fashion, not to mention it wouldn’t fit me,’ Henry spat out stepping closer and closer to me down the narrow hallway.

‘It’s probably an old coat,’ I replied nonchalantly. ‘Like I said, Annie was clean-’

‘DO NOT LIE TO ME!’ he bellowed causing me to jump back. ‘He was here. You were both here alone!’

Throwing caution to the winds I dashed into the kitchen, Henry’s following behind me quickly. I ran towards a knife which was placed on the kitchen island lying beside a cut loaf of bread. Undoubtedly Annie had been in here earlier preparing my lunch. I picked up the sharp bread knife before swooping around sharply as Henry entered the kitchen and smirked. ‘Oh, Jo,’ he said, his muddy eyes filled with mirth as he caught the sight of me wielding the knife. ‘You stupid bitch. We’ve been here before. You cannot best me in a fight.’

‘Stay away,’ I warned, holding the knife shakenly.

‘Tut, tut,’ he scolded as he started to walk around the kitchen island. I began to walk backwards so we were both very slowly circling the kitchen island. ‘So he was ‘ere then Thomas. How nice! Did you fuck ‘im again then?’

‘He was here,’ I said trying to remain calm as I continued to slowly retreat whilst holding the knife aloft. ‘He only wanted to see you Henry. I told him he had to schedule an appointment. He agreed and left. Henry we can discuss this calmly. I’ll make coffee – it’ll help you think clearly- ’

‘Oh, I’m thinkin’ just fine,’ Henry said, temporarily stopping. So did I and we merely looked at one another in silence. ‘I just wanted you to explain.’

‘Good,’ I sighed in relief lowering my hand which clutched the knife. ‘Because Thomas wanted to talk to you.’

‘I believe you,’ he said, his face lightening into a smile. ‘You’re my sister. I believe you, Jo.’

For a moment I was stunned. My hand quickly lowered further. ‘Oh Henry, that’s great! It’s the truth I swear- ’

‘BITCH!’ Henry bellowed launching at me so quickly that I barely had time to react. Before I could even fight back Henry had the knife yanked out of my hand and threw it across the floor. He gripped me tightly and pushed me against the kitchen island. I stumbled forward gripping the counter for support, but managed to quickly turn around to face him. ‘I know when you’re lying!’ he spat right in my face.

‘But I’m not- ’ I was interrupted by a sharp slap across my cheek. Tears sprang into my eyes at the force of the sting. I was temporarily stunned.

‘Yes you are!’ Henry cried out, grabbing my throat. I grappled his arms and attempted to push off his grip but it was useless – like fighting against marble. ‘You’re fucking him!’

‘No!’ I answered panicked and still trying to wrestle and release his grip on my throat. He quickly turned me around and sharply bent my frame so I was curved, tummy wedged against the counter. Henry stood pressed behind me, one hand gripped on my waist the other finding my throat again.

‘Then why else would he call on you alone?’ Henry snapped as his fingers tightened around my throat. I started to panic, my eyes watering as my oxygen was cut off. I thrashed in his grip, desperately trying to throw him off, but he just pushed against me more forcibly from behind, locking me irrevocably in place. ‘Unless…’ Henry stepped back slightly to allow his hand on my waist to slide across my lower middle. ‘Unless … you’re expecting his bastard.’

He immediately let go of my throat and I buckled, grasping the counter for support as I coughed and rasped for breath.

I shook my head still trying to catch my breath. I felt my hair been pulled from the scalp as Henry caught me by my hair. ‘That’s it – now it makes sense. That’s why he was so persistent to keep in touch with me. Why he sent those letters to you! Oh yes, Annie told me’ Henry explained catching the look in my eyes as he dragged me up into a standing position. ‘You’ve been acting odd too since your return, sleeping more, pale, eating less. You fucked him…now you’ve got his bastard growing in your belly huh?!’

‘Henry, no!’ I cried in a raspy voice as I regained my voice again. ‘We never- ’

‘You are!’ Henry spat his eyes darting down to my middle again looking disgusted. ‘That’s why he’s here in London, isn’t it? Not to gain my money but to chase after his heir. You planned this, didn’t you? To leave London – to leave me!’

Henry pressed me against the counter again. ‘You’re mine’ he whispered, yanking my hair back and nestling his head against my neck. ‘Every inch of you is mine.’

‘Henry I’m not pregnant!’ I cried out desperately.

‘I’ll be in touch with Dr Conrad tomorrow,’ Henry spat acidly. ‘He’ll tell me if you’re lying. But one thing is for sure,’ Henry said as he started to half drag me across the kitchen floor by my hair and body as I fought uselessly all the while. ‘Pregnant or not you’re never seeing Thomas again. A few months in the asylum ought to restore you to your docile self.’

‘Henry, stop this,’ I begged as he continued to pull me across the kitchen until we reached the back door. ‘This is madness! I’m not expecting Thomas’ child!’

Henry opened the back door and mercilessly pushed me outside. I stumbled on the step and fell against the cement pavement. ‘You better hope not,’ he spat as I attempted to stand up. Henry once again caught me by my hair as I stood up causing me to cry out. ‘ ‘cuz no sister of mine is going to have a child out of wedlock,’ he said dragging me towards the coal shed.

I started to scream, but a quick punch to my side winded me and I gasped for breath as I was dragged along Henry’s side. ‘They have a special place in the asylum for women who are used before marriage’, Henry continued to explain as he approached the coal shed door. He let me go to search for a key in his pocket. I immediately attempted to run away but Henry grappled me and none too gently pressed the rusty key against my neck. ‘Ah, ah, ah,’ he admonished. ‘You’re not going anywhere. It wouldn’t do any good to run off in your condition.’

‘I’m not pregnant!’ I panted as Henry opened the shed door. I began to squirm against his grasp. ‘I’M NOT!’ I screamed as he pushed me into the shed. ‘Henry, you’re acting crazy!’ I exclaimed before he threw me against the floor. I quickly fell on to a large coal pile, the sharp stones cutting my hands and legs.

Henry looked down at me in utter disgust, ‘Yet it is you that will be going to the asylum tomorrow. Rest well, dear Jo’ and with that he closed the shed door, the sharp metallic lock telling me he had padlocked it once more. I was encased in darkness and utterly alone. For some time I cried out and banged against the shed’s door terrified to be enclosed in here of all places – Henry knew that. He purposely took me here to lock me up. I took great heaving breaths but found myself lightheaded. I collapsed against coal and curled up into a ball, not daring to scream again - too terrified to. Instead, in an attempt to forget all flashbacks of the asylum and my sense of dread at my impending return to the place I started to quietly sing, solely focusing on the words and ignoring the ghostly presence trapped in here with me.

***

 

I do not know for precisely how long I stayed curled up like that. Eyes shut tight, afraid to move, afraid to open my eyes. I sang the same lines over and over slowly of the only song that entered my mind.

 _‘_ Goosey goosey gander,

 whither shall we wander?

Upstairs and downstairs,

and in your lady's chamber.

Here we met a young woman,

who wouldn't say her prayers,

so we took her by her left leg,

and threw her down the stairs,’  I sang slowly, stopping at the end of each line to draw a shakey breath. It was so cold here in this shed. So cold.

‘G-g-gossey g-oosey gander, whither s-shall we w-wander?’ I started for what felt like the millionth time when I heard a sharp bang followed by call out. ‘Josephine!’ a deep voice called from somewhere distant. I curled up deeper and continued to sing. ‘W-whither shall we w-wander? Upstairs and d-downstairs, and i-in your lady's chamber,’ I whispered.

‘Josephine!’ the deep voice called again, causing me to a whimper. I heard a fist banging on the shed door but I curled up tighter, refusing to believe, refusing to hope. ‘H-here we m-met a young woman, who wouldn't say her p-prayers,’ I continued as I heard sharp metallic clicks and the noise of the door opening. I shivered at the sudden bitter rush of cold followed by a loud gasp. ‘S-so we took her by her left leg, and threw her down the stairs,’ I finished as I felt a material being placed over my curled up body.

‘Josephine, it’s me!’ a man cried, his arms trying to gently rub warmth into my freezing limbs.

‘G-goosey, g-gossey, gander,’ I started to sing quietly again and ignoring the man. ‘Whither s-shall we w-wander?’

‘Josephine, darling, it’s me Thomas,’ he cried out again. The name instilled a sudden rush of warmth throughout me. _Thomas. Could it really be Thomas?_ My limbs tensed even more as I cracked my eyes open slightly, but all I could see was darkness.

‘Thomas?’ I whispered, my voice so low and sounding so far away.

‘Josephine, I’m going to get you out of here,’ he said with a slight encouraging smile. ‘I’m going to pick you up first. Is that alright?’

I opened my eyes and saw Thomas staring down at me kindly. His feature dark, but discernible up close, his scent unmistakable. I nodded and he picked me in his arms, making sure his jacket was securely around me to keep me warm.

‘Henry,’ I whispered in a panicked tone as Thomas stepped out into the moonlight. _So I was only in the shed a few hours – two or three at the most. But it had felt like forever._

‘Oh, don’t worry, darling,’ Thomas answered, looking down at me kindly as he carried me towards the house. The slight malicious gleam was unmistakable in his eyes. ‘I’ll deal with Henry before we leave.’

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this chapter contains some frightening and disturbing scenes. Please look at the tags and archive warnings before reading this story as it may be upsetting for some readers.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposting Chapter Twelve from two days ago to include omitted vital details. Sorry I didn't post them originally, I've quite a lot on at the moment and I mixed up a draft with the final proof-read chapter.
> 
> Also I should mention that I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted as I've had a personal setback. I'm sorry to disappoint my regular readers and will do all I can to ensure a speedy update. 
> 
> Honestly, I wish my day job was to write this story (and many other stories that I want to write & research full-time) but alas for now my writing is a pipe dream rather than reality! Still, one can dream for working on behalf of the visionary that is Del Torro, right?
> 
> Much peace & love, 
> 
> Lady sans pitié (Madame_Charlie)

Chapter Twelve

Thomas carried me gently across the garden in his arms. It was comforting and slightly odd and I was completely unused to this treatment, this gentle grasp, this - whatever exactly  _this_ was. It felt almost dreamlike, like I were floating amongst the stars and the bright moon above me. I could easily surrender to this blissful ignorance. For this had to be a dream. Surely I was still locked in the shed.

‘The shed,’ I whispered suddenly coming to my senses and blinking in the moonlight.

‘What?’ Thomas asked, pausing briefly to look down at me. His face glowed in the moonlight, his pale skin like an angel in its ethereal snow-white glow. His dark black hair was unruly, curls untamed. His face was kind, brows knotted in a concerned arch as his blue eyes shone brightly into my own. For a moment I simply stared at him, unwilling to deny what my body longed to believe – that an angel had rescued me in my dreams.

‘The shed,’ I repeated quietly as my mind reacted to this pathetic response.

 _An angel, honestly Josephine? a_ sarcastic, dry voice droned on from the back of mind. _As if the angels are on your side! As if they were ever on your side. Did they rescue you during any of Henry's numerous beatings? Did they appear and save you from the asylum and its most disturbed inmates. There are no angels. And what makes you think he is even ‘rescuing’ you? Think. Focus on reality, not fantasy, not longing or desire. Do not dare to dream._

‘Did you lock the coal shed?’ I continued, gaining confidence as I focused on the reality of what was happening.

‘I – well, no,’ Thomas answered confused, his breath rising into the cold night. ‘Why? Did you leave something behind?’

Suddenly, I grew irate and overwhelminglyconsumed by the urge to lock the coal shed door in order to contain whatever unknowable thing resided in there. _I only hoped it was not too late._ ‘Set me down!’ I cried out suddenly causing Thomas to jerk sharply on the spot.

‘Josephine – what on earth?’ he queried, holding me tighter still against his chest as he recovered from the momentary lapse in his steady hold. He cradled me closer. ‘I’m here to save you, darling. Hush now, be still. I will bring you inside, set you by the fire to warm you and then I’ll - ’

‘I don’t need saving!’ I interrupted sharply. ‘But you will if you do not set me down at once!’

‘Yes, you do need saving. Believe me I recognise the signs!’ Thomas scolded, refusing to let me go. ‘Your body is bruised and I just found you shivering in a coal shed in naught but a flimsy nightgown! I’m even willing to bet that you’re naked underneath, with not even a nightgown on!’ he then paused, his face reddening at his own words. ‘And you're so cold!’ he added in a quieter tone, his eyes suddenly darting away – to anywhere but the sight of my body in his arms. ‘We must get you indoors at once before you catch your death in these conditions!’

‘You can scold me later!’ I hissed trying to remain reasonable. ‘Just set me down right now! We must close the shed door!’

He looked at me curiously as though surprised by my answer. Perhaps he thought saving me would be easy – romantic even. Yet it was proving to be nothing of the sort. He let me down slowly and I wobbled on the spot. He aimed to steady me as I took a shakey step back to the coal shed. ‘I’m fine,’ I answered waspishly.

‘You’ve been beaten and locked away!’ Thomas snapped in irritation. ‘You are not fine – you’re clearly stubborn, I’ll warrant you that, but you are _not_   fine!’

‘This is my life, Mr Sharpe,’ I answered meeting his stare with a deadpan gaze. ‘I assure whatever you have observed upon seeing me is not, even in the very least, the worst thing I have suffered through. And I don’t want to be saved or rescued, but I would like your help. Can you do that?’ I asked, feeling triumphant at my hidden boldness.

_Reality Jo, the reasonable and sane comfort of reality. Take control._

Yet as my eyes met his I felt another surge of a sudden inexplicable rush of warmth. The comfort of his blue stare sent a sudden thrill down my core that I did not fully understand. Though I was rather embarrassed at my body’s response – the very warmth now escaped me as it had once before when Thomas’ hand was on my thigh and as it rose higher, higher still, gaging responses that even then I was too embarrassed to acknowledge. His very eyes seemed to mirror the same response and again the urge overtook me to forget this present moment and simply follow my instincts wherever they wanted to go. _I wanted to be touched – caressed. I wanted his hands exploring my body, I wanted his kisses, his tongue, his very manhood within me. In short I wanted to be consumed by him. I wanted to give into temptation._ Thomas made me feel more alive with a simple look than I ever thought it were possible to feel. _What was my fascination with Mr Sharpe?_

For a fleeting second, I expected Thomas to walk away or say he was not interested in whatever it was that I expected from him. I truly assumed he would say that this was his rescue and he would stick to his rules. However, my sudden flushed face and slight panting were clearly confusing him after my outburst. He licked his lips – suggesting to me that whatever was my body’s natural response was his own body's response too. I longed for his lips upon mine yet my mind argued otherwise. _This is not the time, Jo._

What I did not expect was his sincere response of ‘How can I help?’

Relieved I smiled warmly at him, feeling lightheaded and giddy, yet firmly trying to remain, outwardly at least, in control. ‘I just – I need to close the shed door.’

Thomas gave me a curious glance but made no comment. We both walked up the path again to the shed and I leaned on him lightly as we walked, truthfully glad for the support for my body was still lightheaded and weak after being locked in the dark for some time.

Once we reached the shed door all lustful thoughts, all instincts of longing and desire escaped my thoughts completely. As I stared into the shed all I could see was darkness. I shivered on the spot, unable to shake the feeling that we were being watched. For a brief second I thought I heard my name being muttered from somewhere inside the dark shed. ‘Close the door,’ I whispered quickly.

Thomas stepped forth, closing the door quickly without asking any questions. I wondered if he too heard the mutter of my name as though carried by the wind itself, yet he made no comment if he did. He clasped my hand and fell into step beside me as walked slowly back to the house.

‘When’s the last time you ate anything, Josephine?’ he whispered as walked slowly. I still felt slightly woozy and could not walk at a quick pace.

‘The day before yesterday,’ I answered quietly my eyes focused on the house as Thomas made a grunt of disapproval. ‘You can scold me later,’ I continued flatly. I realised I was squeezing Thomas’ hand rather hard but he made no comment. My gaze fell upon the kitchen where I saw it was illuminated by a small light. ‘Henry’s awake,’ I whispered, sounding utterly terrified as we stopped walking. ‘He’s going to be so mad if sees you.’

‘He’s already seen me,’ Thomas answered, matching my soft tone with his own. ‘He told me where you were.’

‘But – but how? Why would he even let you in the house?’ I asked, starting to shiver _. Somewhere in the house Henry was waiting for us to return. Was he watching us right now?_

‘Gentle persuasion,’ Thomas clipped back quickly. I stared at him, my eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘Followed by forceful persuasion,’ Thomas confessed under my glare with a slight bashful smile.   

I made a small gasp and Thomas’ smile grew wider. ‘Rest assured, I made no serious injury to Henry. He is merely … waiting for our return, I imagine,’ Thomas answered his eyes now resting on the solitary light of the kitchen.

With a slight pull of my hand, Thomas led the way back to the kitchen door. However just as we ascended the stone steps up to the back door the solitary light in the kitchen went out. I froze on the spot, gripping Thomas’ hand fiercely in my own. For a moment neither of us spoke, our ragged breath’s rising up into the air.

‘I suspect Henry has fallen over,’ Thomas whispered, loosening his grip on my hand. Feeling embarrassed I let go completely of his. ‘It’s alright,’ he answered calmly, his gaze flickering between me and the door, a slight comforting smile still on his face.

‘He must have been watching us,’ I answered, my voice barely audible. I was suddenly petrified at the thoughts of passing through our darkened house with an unstable Henry on the loose. _What if he hurt Thomas?_

‘He couldn’t have been,’ Thomas replied. ‘I – well he was knocked out cold … or at least I thought he was.’

‘Oh no!’ my voice squeaked fearing what was coming next. ‘You hit him? You’ve made him mad! What do you think he’s going to do now?’

Thomas faced me calmly and before I knew it he was hugging me closely, tenderly. ‘He will not hurt you anymore,’ Thomas whispered.

‘It’s you I’m worried about,’ I confessed, slightly surprised by Thomas' response. Yet I was unable to stop clutching Thomas tightly. It felt silly, childish, yet it was utterly comforting to be held like this. It was hard to be rational when held in such a comforting embrace but I tried anyway. ‘Perhaps you could escape over the back garden wall. You’re tall enough- ’

‘I will not leave here without you,’ Thomas answered, kissing the top of my head. Again, in spite of the gravity of our situation his simple action made me warm, giddy and inexplicably happy. I could not resort to my usual coping mechanism when dealing with Henry which was to switch off my emotions. With Thomas right here with me I felt more alive than ever, which both confused and excited me. ‘We leave together. However, you must leave me inside the house to find Henry first - ’

‘No!’ I admonished, immediately stepping back from him to stare him in the eyes. ‘You don’t know what he is capable of - ’

Thomas gently cupped my face. ‘You asked for my help, did you not?’ he asked kindly.

I nodded slowly in response. ‘But -’ I began to argue but was cut off immediately by him.

‘But nothing,’ Thomas answered. ‘Let me find him. Once he is properly … restrained, we will leave. Agreed?’

‘What if he finds you first?’ I asked my voice sounding panicked and my breathing unsteady. I was shaking slightly. ‘You can’t – I mean, you don’t know – you couldn’t possibly understand what he is capable of, Thomas - ’

‘Nor does he know what I am capable of,’ Thomas reasoned, yet he was studying me closely, his eyes sweeping my body as though seeing me truly for the first time. ‘I will find Henry- ’

‘But – but what if-?’

‘Do you trust me?’ Thomas asked, suddenly holding me firmly by my shoulders. He was imploring me now, his body so strong, so defiant and assertive against my own.

‘Yes, I trust you,’ I answered, with little pause. _Yet Henry I did not trust. He was callous, a brute and utterly unpredictable. He could pose a serious risk to Thomas. What if he were to hurt him – seriously hurt him. Then surely the fault would be mine?_

Thomas seemed to register my internal struggle and merely gripped me tighter, not aggressively but more in a reassuring manner. ‘Then trust me when I say, I can handle whatever Henry has to throw at me – I have suffered at the hands of far worse creatures, I promise you. I will go into the house alone. I will restrain Henry if needs be. However, I hope we can resolve this quickly and calmly so you can pack a bag and we will leave together.’

‘Where will I go?’ I asked quietly, feeling slightly worried now and slightly insecure. A woman alone in the nineteenth century with no money and no man by her side was effectively, yet sadly, impoverished.

‘The main thing is to get you out of this house and as far away from that brute as possible for now. I will help you, do all I can to ensure you’re safe and secure - whatever it takes. Henry can and will help you financially – it’s the least he can do. Once gone we can arrange a more detailed plan for us.’

I nodded feeling oddly calm knowing Thomas had a plan of action. ‘Let’s get this part over with then,’ I said, a slow smile breaking out over my face.

Thomas beamed back at me, his arms leaving my shoulders and wrapping around my back. He kissed my lips softly, holding me close yet ever so gently, like I were a precious porcelain doll. When he pulled away his face was slightly flushed, his eyes in a slightly giddy haze. ‘Wait here for me, Josephine,’ he said softly. He lightly pressed another kiss on my forehead. ‘I will return when it is safe to bring you inside.’

I nodded and Thomas entered the dark kitchen quietly, the door making little noise as he opened it slowly.

I watched him close it behind quietly, my heart beginning to race once again but this time in excitement. My mind began to drift into the endless possibilities that leaving Henry could bring.

 _Could I really be leaving Henry behind for good? And to be free - free from his grasp forever._ I was positively dizzy and elated at the thought. _I would have financial independence in this freedom too so I would not be left penniless on the streets. And Thomas had promised to help me – had gone out of his way to prove he would help me no matter the difficulty of the circumstances._

 _‘I will help you,_ _do all I can to ensure you’re safe and secure’ the echo of his voice filled my mind from moments earlier. ‘Whatever you need ... Once gone we can arrange a more detailed plan for us’_

 _Whatever I need? For us … Could - did he mean marriage? For that would ensure Henry would have no rightful claim to me ever again. Hadn’t Thomas come all this way just to ensure my safety? He loved me, did he not? We were undoubtedly drawn to one another, but marriage? I was so damaged, why would he ever marry me?_   Yet my internal argument was broken by flashes of images through my mind - dreams or suppressed longings; _I was far away from a smoke-filled, dank and bustling London. I had left behind my dread and fear of doctors and asylums. Instead I was living in the beautifully picturesque and quaint north of England. Naturally, I would help Thomas repair Allerdale Hall to its former glory once Henry gave me the money which was rightfully mine. There my creative side would flourish, and Thomas and I would be owner of one of the finest businesses in Europe once his revolutionary idea for extracting clay came to life. I would help him with budgeting, production and advise on sales and clients. For Thomas, unlike Henry, would not exclude me from working by his side because of my gender. Thomas and I would be equal business partners – a team. And then maybe … just maybe, once we built up our business we could start a family of our own. How odd it was to picture myself with child – Thomas’ child nonetheless. I smiled at the idea – heavily pregnant with Thomas’ child, perhaps curled up together intimately in bed where a large fire roared to keep us warm and one of Thomas' large hands protectively laid upon my swollen middle as we dozed blissfully. Usually all thoughts of pregnancy were terrifying to me. The thought of being used merely to breed was abhorrent to me but to create a life with Thomas would be nothing of the sort. To have a child with him would be the creation of life through the means of pure love – not out of necessity or to follow society’s ‘norms’.  And Thomas would be such a wonderful father. He would care for me during the pregnancy, he would not pack me off to a far distant place whilst lying-in. A small perfect family – no more than one or two children. Perhaps then I could enjoy motherhood and balance it with work. I pictured a little boy, with locks of raven black hair running around the mansion – playing hide and seek with his little sister. I pictured Thomas and I playing with our children, teaching them and providing them with all the love that neither of us ever had when growing up._

Yet once again a bitter voice interrupted my sweet dreams of future happiness.  _Just where is your mind at, silly girl?_ The voice drawled in a sarcastic tone. _You are delusional. You know deep down you can never have a happy family. Thomas will not want you once he knows the whole truth, Jo..._

Yet as my minds internal confliction raged it was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash of breaking china followed by a muffled yelp. Immediately forgetting all childish dreams my eyes darted to the kitchen through my standpoint from the window. Yet all I could see from this point into the kitchen was darkness. _What if Henry had hit Thomas? What if he had hurt him? You idiot, Josephine! You let Thomas battle with a wild beast!_

Forgetting all worries for my safety I only thought of Thomas’ and boldly opened the door and charged into the kitchen as a light was lit in the far corner, illuminating the panting figure of Thomas.

‘Thomas!’ I cried out relieved. Thomas looked out of breath but mercifully unhurt. He however had a livid expression on his face.

‘Get out, Josephine!' he demanded, his tone gruff as his eyes darted around the kitchen, he held aloft a paraffin lamp and looked slightly afraid. His eyes wild, his black curls untamed and wild. 'NOW’

For a moment I was stunned by his expression and tone. I had never seen him like this before, yet knew there was a reason. _Who else but Henry could instill such a fear in a persons eyes?_

Regaining my senses I made to turn and flee but felt a sharp pull around my ankle as I attempted to turn around, thus knocking me onto the floor at once. There, under the small kitchen table, was Henry, crouched down and now holding resolutely onto my kicking limbs.

‘Josephine!’ I heard Thomas yell out, setting down the lamp and running to the table.

I struggled but Henry merely launched atop of me and I felt a steel blade nudge against the back of my neck. I recognised it as the knife Henry had kicked out of my hand earlier. ‘Stay still,’ Henry warned. ‘Both of you.’

‘Thomas, stay still – he has a knife!’ I warned, my voice quivering at the close proximity of the blade.  I stilled and quickly allowed Henry to guide us up from the floor.

Thomas stood not three feet in front of us. His mouth was aghast as he stared at Henry who held the blade against my throat. ‘Henry, don’t do this,’ Thomas pleaded, his blue eyes desperate as he stared between the blade and my exposed throat. ‘Just leave her go and we won’t even go to the police about this. You have my word.’

Henry laughed, holding me tighter to his side. All I could do was try and control my breathing and stare at Thomas. He looked as scared as I felt. ‘Your word,’ Henry said, practically spitting the words out in distaste as he looked over Thomas. ‘Your word means nothing. All along I thought you were interested in my ideas and co-operatin’ but you just wanted my money and was fuckin' my sister! Bet you both was havin' a right old laugh behind my back!’

‘Henry, no! We never - ’ Thomas tried to reason as he stepped forward but stopped short as I let out a panicked cry. Henry had pressed the blade into my neck ever so slightly so that a droplet of scarlet blood ran down my collarbone and disappeared into my dressing gown.

‘I know you were!’ Henry spat, slightly shaking. ‘You and your sister are money grabbing whores! Least I had the courage to ignore your sister’s advances.’

Thomas was shaking his head and looking at Henry as though he desperately trying to make sense of his ramblings. Henry continued; ‘Oh ya, I noticed Sir Thomas Sharpe _, baronet_ ,’ Henry hissed in a clear, teasing manner. ‘That what ye do, huh? Lure people up to that di – dilipa -dilap - that broken down house, in that piss-pot middle of nowhere!’ he slurred, now struggling to force out the words. Henry was clearly more drunk than usual, his body stank of drink, seat and even urine. I felt nauseated. I had never seen him so drunk or unbalanced. ‘Ply them with free booze, fine food and sed – seduction,’ he hiccupped, slightly leaning onto my shoulder causing the blade to drop slightly and rest by my collar bone. ‘And then get them to sign a contract and take their money.’

‘Henry, I never seduced Josephine,’ Thomas said calmly, daring to take a step forward slowly. ‘We never lured you into giving us money. I didn’t come here for your money. I came here for Josephine. Just leave her go and you’ll never see or hear from either of us again.’

‘LEAVE ‘ER GO?!’ Henry said, dragging me back a step. ‘She’s MINE! I ain’t never lettin’ her go. You might ‘ave fucked ‘er but she belongs to me! She’ll always belong to me! Now she might be damaged from you but Dr. Conrad can fix that tomorrow. Once that ... THING is gone then she’ll be fit for me again.’

Thomas froze as he struggled to understand Henry’s words. I watched terrified as Henry’s words sunk into Thomas’ mind. I felt beyond humiliated - in fact, I hated myself as much as Henry. I suddenly wished Thomas had left me alone in the coal shed. For a fleeting second I thought I saw a look of pure disgust on Thomas’ face but when his eyes found mine again they were full of confusion.

‘Henry, we never slept together,’ Thomas vowed his voice quavering as he saw the second wound Henry had wielded onto my body with his drunk, shaking hand. ‘And I do not know what damage or what thing you speak of. I have never physically hurt Josephine and I never will.’

‘Is that so, Mr Sharpe?’ Henry said, his other arm around my middle squeezing tightly as he barked out a forced laugh. ‘Then you won’t mind if I do this.’ Henry lowered the knife against my lower stomach so that the blade pointing inwards towards my womb. I could feel the steel tip of the blade slightly brush my lowest point of my abdomen with every one of my panicked exhaled breaths. Thomas continued to look confused, his eyes briefly darting to mine for an answer.

‘He – he thinks that I’m pregnant,’ I said as quickly as I could. My voice was quivering and I realised I was crying silently. Tears falling unchecked from my cheeks. ‘I – I told him I’m not but he still thinks I’m p-pregnant and that you’re the father. He wants to p-put me back into the asylum t-tomorrow. He wants rid...’ I succumbed to tears, unable to even finish my sentence.

Thomas’ eyes widened, his expression mimicking my own, even a tear fell from his cheek.

‘I knew it!’ Henry exclaimed triumphantly, taking Thomas reaction as confirmation. He pressed the blade slightly further in towards me as though deliberately trying to torture Thomas.

Thomas looked at Henry in utter hatred. ‘STOP IT YOU FOOL! You think this a game? You do not own her! She’s your sister, not property. And even if she were pregnant you would do this to her – to her unborn child?’

I was crying and shaking, pushing further back into Henry’s body to avoid the blade. ‘Henry, I’m not pregnant – I’m not.’

For a moment there was silence. Henry started muttering under his breath but it was clear he was confused. His shaking hand lowered the blade and that’s when Thomas pounced forward as lithe as a jaguar, his fist colliding with the side of Henry’s head, disorientating him and causing him to drop the knife. Thomas immediately pulled me aside just as Henry staggered upright.

Shielding me with his body, Thomas stood upright between Henry and I. ‘Just leave us go,’ Thomas pleaded.

Henry however was barely listening and took a swing at Thomas. ‘Over my dead body,’ Henry slurred as he threw a forceful punch towards Thomas’ nose.

Thomas merely caught Henry fist and twisted it sharply so that Henry howled with pain. ‘So be it,’ Thomas spat in disgust. He then seized Henry by the back of his head and roughly brought it down against the table in one swift movement. With a sickening thud, Henry’s head collided with the corner of the table before his body quickly slumped to the floor. Thomas and I stood staring in shock at the still body of my brother as a dark crimson stain began to ooze out from beneath his mop of hair and onto the dark kitchen tiles.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence.

Chapter Thirteen

 

**_Thomas’ POV_ **

 

Momentarily, I felt triumphant at the result of my anger and rage. Henry, the savage and drunk brute, received exactly what he deserved. I wanted to throttle him for some time, so quite naturally it felt like it were my given right to finally do so. For this man was nothing more than a vulture who preyed upon the weak or the vulnerable - I knew the type only too well. I admittedly reached breaking point and snapped when he held a knife against Josephine’s throat and saw a trickle of blood flow lightly down her neck, disappearing into her gown. I was overcome by a white-hot anger as he damaged my beautiful lily before my very eyes. I felt powerful, and also had an immense sense of self-satisfaction as I grasped Henry’s head and quickly struck it with all my strength against the table. It made me feel like the man my father always told me I would never be - for that brief moment in time I was strong, dominant and in control. Yet, as seconds trickled by I was equally struck by another feeling. I felt surprised by my own actions. I never was a fighter. I never liked the sight of blood.

As my rage ebbed away and I looked upon the still lifeless form of Henry I began to feel regretful and nauseated. The oozing of blood that seeped across the tiles filled me with fear. This was like before – only now it was not I who had witnessed the result of a brutal assault, but Josephine. Instead, I had caused the brutal assault.

_I did this._

Suddenly everything seemed to shrink around me, I was suffocating the air too thin, my head began to spin – I felt like a mere boy again.

_I wanted - I needed Lucille._

Quickly I grasped Josephine’s hand and began tugging on it as I had done all those years before as a boy with my then teenage sister. I could smell the blood as I took a frightened step back - the very smell triggered a memory I thought was long since buried.

_‘Lucille!’ I gasped. She was disheveled and out of breath. I barely saw her face before she prised a toy I was tinkering with out of my hands and began to race me downstairs from the attic. I was panicked and confused, clutching her hand tightly as we ran through a darkened corridor. We were never aloud down into the main house – we were usually confined to the attic. 'Lucille, stop! Mama will be so mad when she finds we've left the attic again!' I exclaimed, now panting as I struggled to keep up with her pace._

_Lucille, laughed an out of breath puff of clear exhilaration as she tore me through the house, passing through mother’s private bedroom and into her bathroom. I felt my skin prickle uncomfortably as Lucille slowed down. I stepped inside the cold tiled floor of mother’s bathroom and wished I could run away and hide back into our attic – our safe nest in this house. For inside mother’s bathroom was a graphic scene of pure violence. My mother lay naked in the bath tub with an axe I recognised faintly to be our own garden axe for chopping wood, buried deep into our mother’s head. Her shrivelled old body sank low into the water, the axe had been struck which such force that her head was nearly ripped in two down to the nose. I could smell the blood. It was everywhere; splattered onto the walls, upon the tiled floor, covering what was left of mother’s head and blended with the water so the water itself was crimson. I felt myself grow faint. Mother’s eyes, though so distorted upon her partially halved skull, were astonishingly open though copious amount of blood streamed out and between them. I could see her flesh, blood, bone, muscles, nerves. I was surely going to be sick. Her face was no longer a face, but a grotesque body. The woman’s eyes were wide as though in shock, the light flecks of blue faintly visible. I could never stand the sight of blood, not even when father would take me hunting. I hated it – the smell, the terrible stench of death._

_‘I did it Thomas!’ Lucille declared. I finally see her clearly. She was throwing back her long, silk black hair that was flecked with blood. She look triumphant and crazed with her blood splattered face as she stared at the corpse in the tub. Her lithe agile teenage body was utterly breath-taking yet so deceivable – despite her petite frame she was strong as an ox. She cleaned the house, helped with mother, butchered the animals and prepared them for meals - seemingly finding no difference when butchering her own mother. ‘Now we can be together!’_

_‘Mother,’ I called quietly, secretly hoping that she was not yet dead despite the grievous wound. I suddenly found myself clinging to Lucille’s hand tightly. ‘You – you killed mother?’_

_Lucille gripped my hand tighter still. ‘Of course, Thomas. I said I would do anything for us to be together. And mother was trying to tear us apart. Don’t you see ,Thomas? I had to!’_

_The blood was everywhere. I stepped closer to Lucille trying not to look at the butchered corpse of our mother. ‘Still so sensitive? But it’s alright Thomas, my love. Now it is just you and I, together forever,’ Lucille said, smiling as I nuzzled against her breasts. ‘No one can ever come between us now.’_

The blood – the smell of the blood. It was horrible, too much. I realised I was tugging Josephine’s arm as I had done Lucille’s all those years ago. _Had Lucille felt the similar rush of endorphins when striking her alleged oppressor? Had she felt a thrill of delight when making contact with the figure she hated most? Did she feel an immediate pang of guilt afterword’s?_

‘We need to move,’ I said swiftly with another tug on Josephine’s arm. ‘Come on.’

However, Josephine merely stared at Henry’s body on the floor. She did not hold her hand in mine, she was in clear shock, her skin deathly pale, her body cold. For a moment, she reminded me of myself as a boy. I knew I would have to take control, she was in shock. I would have to take Lucille’s dominant role, before history repeated itself and both Josephine and I were to be sent away and separated.

‘Josephine,’ I said again, barely mustering a whisper - strength was hard to come by. I tugged even harder on her hand. ‘We need to move, _now_.’ Yet she seemed to barely hear my words, her eyes were fixated on the crimson stain that oozed closer to us. I felt nauseous again and longed to run, to hide with – with Lucille, of course. She was my protector, my nurturer. I took another step back, as Henry’s blood seeped across Josephine’s feet and edged into the end of her nightgown.

‘Henry,’ Josephine whispered unable to tear her eyes away from his body.

Feeling calmer as I imagined Lucille’s reaction to this death I took control, I picked up Josephine in one swift movement. ‘Come on,’ I said, turning my back on Henry’s body and carrying her out of the kitchen. She was silent as I took her upstairs, yet I could tell she was in clear shock.

‘But Henry …’ she finally said. ‘We have to …’ she continued flatly. I felt a flicker of fear – _what exactly was going through her mind right now? Would she blame me? Would she tell the police that I had struck the fatal blow?_ I would go to prison, leaving both Josephine and Lucille behind. I needed to formulate a plan.

‘It’ll be alright,’ I said gently, as I sat her down on the end of her bed. ‘We need to act quickly now. Do you understand, Josephine?’

She was clearly still at shock, her skin began to prickle in goosebumps, her body still limp. She looked like a marionette I had once made for Lucille – which made me the marionettist. Therefore, I now had to direct her movements, I had to guide her. I went to the far corner of the room where I earlier had packed a bag for Josephine with all the necessities she would need to flee the house – little did I know how quickly my rescue plan would unravel.  She nodded once more, her body so fragile-looking upon the bed. ‘But Henry?’ she repeated.

‘Henry – Henry will be fine,’ I answered setting the luggage on the bed beside me and quickly unzipping it to search for a clean nightdress. ‘I’ll go check on him – you – you need to change,’ I said as I took out a clean nightdress and sat it on the bed. ‘Wear this. Is that clear Josephine?’

‘Why are all my clothes packed up?’ she asked, her voice quiet and sounding eerily childlike.

I felt sick with myself as I stared down at her innocent frame. ‘Because – I … remember I promised I would get you out of this house tonight?’

She merely nodded again.

Her silence made me extremely uncomfortable. ‘Good girl,’ I said with an encouraging smile. Perhaps I could make her feel more at ease by being gentle with her, showing her kindness and warmth. ‘Well, this was and is my promise. I had your bag packed, ready to leave at once. Henry let me into the house – he needed some slight persuasion . He let me search the house for you. Whilst he was restrained I found your bedroom and packed your bag.’

She merely nodded once more, her eyes fleeting to her packed bag before looking back at me.

I started to panic, automatically running my hands through my hair. Quickly I crouched down before her, my hands on her knees and made level eye contact with her. ‘You’re in shock, my darling, I know. You must trust me – save your questions for later. We must act very quickly now.’

She nodded again and I smiled whilst exhaling deeply in relief. I placed a soft kiss on her forehead. ‘Get dressed quickly. I will be back very soon.’

I left the bedroom and dashed to the kitchen once again. I stood in the kitchen doorframe watching as the grey early morning light lit up the kitchen. I heard a deep groan of pain and saw Henry’s body moving slightly, his arms spread as though struggling to pick himself up. With a rush of relief, I stepped towards him, aptly trying to avoid the blood splatter on the floor.

_He was not dead  - yet. Thus I was not a murderer - yet._

Hearing my footsteps, Henry paused briefly turning his head across his shoulders and looked back to where I stood.

‘You!’ Henry said, his eyes slightly crossed. His head was oozing copious amount of blood. I could see where his head had hit off the corner of the desk, the blow so severe that it had lifted part of the scalp clean from Henry’s head. Swallowing thickly and trying to breathe through my mouth I stepped closer to Henry.

‘Me,’ I responded simply. ‘Looks like you had a nasty fall, dear Henry. You should really be more careful.’

‘You's ... cunt,’ Henry slurred. ‘I’ll get you – you … ’

I laughed quietly as I watched Henry struggle to stand up, though truthfully I felt like vomiting. My strength dwindled and I felt as though I would pass out. Henry’s hands slipped repeatedly in his own pool of blood. I was surprised he could even talk. Searching the kitchen my eyes fell upon a brandy bottle. I retrieved it quickly and went back to Henry. He looked at me confused – his eyes were closing and he looked on the brink of unconsciousness once more. I quickly straddled Henry’s back and feeling immensely disgusted with myself I gripped Henry hair causing him to shriek in agony as I pulled his head back lightly. ‘Drink,’ I spat menacingly.

He obeyed quickly, drinking the brandy quickly until he choked upon it. The liquid oozed down his mouth but he quickly passed into unconsciousness once more. I poured the remainder of it by his mouth and on the collar of his coat, then smashed the bottle before placing the shards just out of Henry’s grasp. I then stood up, straightened my coat and left the kitchen once more.

I entered Josephine's bedroom to find it absent but could hear her mumbling in the bathroom. I entered without knocking to find her naked in the tub and blushed immediately. I was struck by her beauty, her soft, supple skin, her large breasts; luscious and so full, her plumpness and curves - so different, so achingly alluring even now in these circumstances. I could only stare as I grew hot and hardened. Yet I quickly realised she was talking to herself, a slight smile twisting at the corner of her mouth as she rubbed her skin. ‘Out, damned spot!’ she mumbled. ‘Out, I say!’ She then giggled, a strange high-pitched giggle that unsettled me deeply and made all my inappropriate thoughts vanish at once. 

‘Josephine?’ I called tentatively from the doorframe. She glanced at me coolly, neither blushing nor looking embarrassed to be found naked or talking to herself. This further unnerved me and I quickly stepped forward to help her out of the tub. She unplugged the bath before taking my hand and I helped her out of the tub. ‘You washed all the blood off – good. Good girl. But you’re freezing.’ I said kindly, trying not to show concern at her current mental state. Her body was marred in freshly placed purple bruises, her skin blemished with raw red circles and scrape marks ran down her back. I tore my eyes away from her, ignoring the rising bile in my stomach. _My beautiful lily, why would someone damage someone so pure, beautiful and innocent?_  I scanned the room and saw a stack of freshly washed towels on the window ledge. I immediately wrapped her in one, rubbing her arms and trying to send some heat into her cold and clearly shocked body. ‘Henry is alive,’ I said as I wrapped another towel around her.

‘He is?’ she asked, her voice more alert at this. ‘He’s alive?’

‘Yes – but in a very serious condition,’ I answered, whilst avoiding looking her in the eyes. ‘He’s unconscious.’

‘What do we do now?’ she asked, finally seeming to wake from the shock.

‘You need to do nothing,’ I explained, feeling a rising sense of nervousness, for I knew what I had to do next.

  _What?’_ she exclaimed.

‘You wait for your maid to arrive – she wakes you, does she not?’ I queried, trying to make my voice sound calm.

‘Well yes, but - ’

‘You must change into a clean nightdress and then you get back into bed as though nothing has happened.’

‘Thomas!’ she cried starting to struggle against my arms which were trying to secure her as I dried her off. ‘We can’t ignore this! We have to raise the alarm! We must contact a doctor!’

‘You cannot!’ I retorted, shaking her slightly by her shoulders in frustration. ‘If we tell the truth, I risk going to prison!’

‘No!’ she retorted, shaking her head but going still and no longer struggling. ‘I’ll explain everything. I’ll tell the truth!’

‘They won’t believe you!’ I answered, sounding suddenly harsh. ‘Just think, Josephine, say you tell the truth – that I came here to save you from Henry. And then you say that I discovered you locked in a _coal shed_ , yet you bare no signs of soot or coal upon you? What would they think?’

‘But you said to – but I -’ she seemed to realise what I was drawing at and looked utterly ashamed, causing my sense of pity to rise for her. ‘They won’t believe, will they?’

‘No, my darling girl,’ I answered softly and with as much empathy as I could. I gently cupped her cheek. ‘They won’t. Perhaps they will think you in shock at first but once they find your medical records or general practitioner, well, you can be sure Dr. Conrad will get involved from there. You will be declared mentally unstable and god knows what will happen. As for myself, either way I will face prison – for unlawful entering of your house and possibly for brutal assault, or more likely for manslaughter or murder. Your words will not help me.’ With every word I spoke I felt a greater sense of shame yet I knew it had to be this way. _I had to save Josephine – I had to keep her safe, just as Lucille had done for me._

She finally looked resigned. ‘Thomas, I’m so sorry – I’m sorry for bringing you into this.’

‘Hush now,’ I whispered, lightly brushing her cheek with my thumb. ‘It is not your fault. We can still get you out of here Josephine, but you must listen to me. I need your help to do it. Can you do that?’

‘Of course I’ll help you,’ she answered with utter sincerity. ‘Whatever you need. But why do you wish to still help me?’

‘I love you,’ I answered, staring resolutely into her green eyes. ‘I will always be by your side – with your permission – because I love you.’

I waited for her to say it back but she seemed blinded by happiness, her face lit up into one of her dazzling smiles. She seemed about to answer when we heard a door slam shut downstairs and I trembled with fear. Suddenly I longed for Lucille, my strong Lucille who was usually by my side in tough situations. ‘Is that your maid?’ I asked, my voice quivering.

Yet as I grew more afraid, Josephine seemed to straighten up and become more assertive, more in control and calm. ‘What do you need?’ She asked, quickly moving out of the bathroom. I followed briskly watching as she, with her back to me, shed her towels and placed on the clean nightdress I had placed on the bed for her. She had a sudden spark of fire I had seen in her on few occasions. Despite the situation, I felt aroused – her sudden confidence alluring me once more.

‘Erm - an alibi. We need an alibi,’ I answered breathlessly, my eyes darting to the bedroom door.

‘Focus Thomas,’ she said simply.  ‘Annie will open the curtains and light a fire in the front room first. We have time, but we must hurry. What alibi do we need?’

I suddenly felt panicked – this plan seemed too risky. _How could I do this alone and without Lucille?_ I cleared my throat. ‘You must say I was never here. Annie will find Henry, then she will no doubt call you and you must call a doctor at once.’

‘And what about you?’ she asked, looking remarkably calm.

‘I – I need to leave unnoticed before anyway sees me – including your maid,’ I explained, staring at her in awe. Again her remarkable strength made me more attracted to her. ‘In the meantime, you must be shocked to discover Henry. You can help stem the flow of blood from his head. I could not do it before now or - ’

‘Annie would have known you were here,’ she answered for me.

‘Exactly. And remember you do not know what happened Henry. You were asleep the entire night. You were awoken by your maid. The police will most likely assume Henry fell when drunk – I made sure they at least know how intoxicated he was,’ I quickly explained. ‘And this,’ I picked up the packed bag and hid it under her bed, out of sight. ‘Must wait until later. I will return in an hour or so. And then I will take it from there.’

A high pitched shriek broke through the morning air. Josephine and I looked at one another. Another scream filled the air, this followed by a shrill call of Josephine’s title of ‘Ms Warren!’

‘I better go down,’ Josephine said quickly before leaning up to kiss my cheek. ‘Follow me and go straight out the front door.’ She clasped my hand and quickly led me down the stairs and I feeling more like a young boy than ever clutched her hand as she guided our way. I barely had the breath to say goodbye before Josephine silently let me out of the front door.

***

 

I reached my hotel room in record time, out of breath and shaking. I felt out of my depth and utterly guilt-ridden for my behaviour. Not only had I possibly (and still probable) murdered a man, I also manipulated Josephine’s mental illness to save my own skin. Yet, as I quickly bathed my sweat soaked skin and changed into another suit, I began to reason with myself; _I had to hurt Henry because he had threatened Josephine. I had to convince Josephine to lie, not only to save myself, but to save Lucille from being alone and to save Josephine from being placed back into the asylum or being kept within Henry’s clutches. For when I saved her from the coal shed, I saw her mental regression. I had seen that in Lucille too – neither woman could stay alone for long because they retreated into that horrible state of mind that “The City of London Asylum” caused. Yes, Lucille too had been sent there so I know what Josephine faced – the unspoken horrors that she faced and experienced on a daily level, but there was hope for Josephine. Her stay had not altered her frame of mind completely. I could save her from Henry – from the root of her pain._

 _Henry was the disturbed one, not Josephine – he was the one who hurt her, abused her and used her. Poor Josephine did not have a sibling that cared. Their relationship was toxic and the marks on Josephine’s body proved that. The multiple scars and bruising, cigar burns and scrape marks – particularly those on her back were evidence of a non-consensual relationship. From the outset I guessed their relationship mirrored that of Lucille and I, but now I knew better. Josephine was forced to endure whatever form of assault Henry saw fit to serve. And earlier, he spoke of her in utterly belittling terms, claiming ownership upon her like she were naught but a possession._ _How dare he threat her in such a way? His obsession with claiming her was disturbing and his lunatic idea that she bore my child seemed to enrage him, not because of the scandal a pregnant unwed woman in upper society would cause, but because he saw her as tainted somehow. And even if it were true, he even was willing to rid Josephine of her own flesh and blood. How cruel? How utterly abhorrent that this man would harm an unborn child and its mother – the most natural bond in the world. In that sense Lucille and I were lucky. Whereas Lucille and I were partners – equals – Josephine and Henry were not._

_Lucille! I must write to her and tell her of the change in events – perhaps slightly adjusting the facts so as to buy more time._

_Dearest Lucille,_

_My dearest one, I do miss you. I only arrived two days ago, yet it feels so long since I last saw your face. I enclose details so that you may write to me here at the hotel. My spirit will be uplifted to read your sweet words and give me great pleasure when imagining them being spoken in your lovely voice. I only wish you were here with me right now, but at least I know the mine is running smoothly under your care._

_My sweet Lucy, I fear I must break some bad news to you. On my arrival here in London, I tracked Henry to a Gentlemen’s Club but found him so inebriated that he made little to no sense. I did manage to arrange to speak with him in private this morning, but arrived at his house only to discover him gravely hurt by a self-induced (and no doubt alcohol involved) incident. I do not know the extent of his wounds but I imagine he will not be fully body-abled for some time._

_Therefore, I write not just to beg for you to write to me but also to look for your counsel, which has always guided me so well. Due to Henry's accident, our current financial situation now lies in the hand of Henry’s sister, Josephine. The woman, though young, is mentally unstable. Only this morning I heard her sing a nursery rhyme to herself, despite the gravity of the situation with her brother. I stayed to offer support but stand little chance of collecting our promised funding for the mines as Henry is not medically fit to access his account. For now the money lies in the hands of the Warren’s sole heir – Josephine. Therefore I ask of you, should I “befriend” this woman and return her to Allerdale Hall? It would be as before – she would suspect nothing. And I, as her husband, would gain not just the promised funds but the Warren’s entire family fortune._

_I beseech you to provide a speedy response – time is of the essence._

_Your faithful love,_

_Tom_

 

By the time I finished the letter I was running late and paid a hotel concierge to post it. I returned to Josephine’s house a little over an hour after departing from it. Now it were full of noise and light, from the moment the maid Annie opened the door.

‘Mr Sharpe,’ she said with a curt nod and slight bow. ‘Good mornin’, Sir. Beggin’ your pardon but now isn’t the best time to pay a visit.’

Taking off my hat, I pulled a mildly curious expression. ‘Now why is that? Has something happened?’ I queried nodding towards the source of noise – men talking further back the hallway in subdued tones.

‘It’s ‘Enry, Sir,’ Annie answered, sounding distraught. ‘He had an accident.’

‘Oh dear,’ I replied feigning shock. ‘Do tell me more about it. Please let me in at once.’

‘No sir – I don’t think- ’

Ignoring the girl I pushed opened the door and let myself in whilst ignoring her pleas of protest.

‘Josephine,’ I called out abruptly. I made it to the front room where I saw a young woman with dark red hair sitting on a chaise lounge. A tall man with grey hair stood beside her, talking down to her with a concerned look upon his face. Her pale face was knotted in anxiety yet when she looked up at my call she smiled – erasing all signs of worry and stress from her skin and making her look years younger.

‘Thomas,’ she said simply, her green eyes twinkling.

‘Oh Josephine, darling,’ I said crossing the room quickly and enveloping her in my arms as she stood up. ‘I just heard the news. Are you alright?’

‘Yes - no,’ she whispered, her voice timid. She sounded exhausted and I wondered when the last time she got a good night’s sleep was. I stroked her hair softly. ‘I just cannot believe it - ’

‘Now, wait a second here,’ the grey haired man demanded briskly. Straightening up I noticed he was sharply dressed, slightly portly, with a weather beaten face. He looked at me in strong distaste, eyeing my clothes warily. ‘Who are you?’

‘Oh, please excuse my manners,’ I said with a slight smile. I kept Josephine firmly to my side with one hand whilst extending my other to the stranger. He shook it slowly.  ‘I guess we haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet. I am Josephine’s fiancé.’

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More darkness and violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter Fourteen

**_Josephine’s POV_ **

Henry had been removed roughly a half hour ago just as the doctor arrived, causing panic to set in for he had brought with him two lackeys who I knew were a precautionary measure waiting on standby to take me by force if necessary.

_What exactly was he doing here right now? Clearly it cannot be good if he brought reinforcements with him - he was expecting the worst from me._

I tried to remain calm, feigning an exterior look of what I hoped was polite and mild puzzlement as he led me into the front room. Here I tried to explain of what had happened to Henry, with Annie’s help. Eventually Annie was dismissed and I was left alone with him, whilst his lackeys waited in the hallway. It was at this point I started to shut down, my mind retreated, I lapsed into silence and I found myself crumbling as he started to explain why exactly he was here.

 _I had no one coming to help me from the doctor's clutches. Just like last time, I was alone._ _I was going to be taken away,_ I realised with a stomach churning and heart-stopping sense of reality, _locked f_ _ar away where Thomas cannot find me._ If I had any food in my stomach I surely would have vomited by now.

_He was here. In my house. Again._

Fear paralysed me – a different kind of fear. The one that makes your head light, your breathing short and your heart thud madly. You blocked out thinking of the past, the present or the future so great was your fear that your mind simply eclipsed all but the dread and leaving you utterly paralysed.

_I did not want to be alone with this man – here, in the asylum, or anywhere. What he did, what he allowed to happen, what he continues to allow? Could Annie come back in here and be by my side? Would Thomas ever do so?_

I inhaled deeply as the doctor continued to speak down to me in his condescending manner. I barely heard what he was saying but only caught the general gist of it ‘…for your own good. Henry wanted this,’ as I nodded along.

Henry of course had ordered this – this final twist of the knife just as I thought Thomas and I could flee unhindered, just as I thought I would escape this hideous house for good. _Where was Thomas anyway? Would he even return? Perhaps he knew my life was too complicated. Perhaps he finally was beginning to understand how dark our family was. He should run away from this darkness that followed us before he too became lost in it._

‘I will of course be your primary physician there as I was before,’ the doctor continued.

 _And all the other times before_ I mentally added, forcing a submissive nod yet wondering if the same things would happen as before.

 

 

_The City of London Asylum was a dark place, where many things went unnoticed; where the unnatural became natural, where the staff and patients blended into one…_

_The room was dark, it smelled strange and there was a dripping noise in the corner opposite. There was no bed in here – no furniture of any kind. Just a smooth stone floor, exposed brick walls and the constant drip, drip, drip... This was the only noise in here beside my breathing. The silence was terrifying. I feared as time passed by that I was not by myself in here.._ _._

_Drip, drip, drip, over and over and over until..._

_I heard the door creak loudly as it opened slowly. So he was here too now? I could smell him. I feel sick to my stomach._

_Drip, drip, drip..._

_‘Josephine?’ A man eventually calls out quietly. I pushed up deeper against the stone wall, whilst trying feebly to hide as much as my frame pemitted me to curl up in itself. I wanted out now. I did not know what that meant but I knew that I wanted this to stop. So tired..._

_Drip, drip, drip..._

_I could smell him even though he was standing up by the now closed door – some good three feet from me. Yet I could smell his stench from here._

_Drip, drip, drip..._

_‘Josephine?’ he called again, making my skin crawl. ‘How do you feel today – still nauseous?’_

_I nodded once, submissively._

_Drip, drip, drip..._

_‘Well that is to be expected for now. At least you have this room to yourself, huh? Cost a small fortune too, but I guess you need it – all things considered.’_

 

 

‘Josephine, are you listening to me?’ a voice said, bringing me back to the present.

I nodded once more – an automatic reflex brought upon by the evocation of past into present – of a mind confused and frightened and desperate to remain unhurt by this doctor. 

_It was easier to play along that much I knew from experience. Submission, though humiliating, was necessary for survival. It was easier to be numb, to switch off._

‘Like I was saying,’ the doctor continued gruffly looking at me in annoyance, no doubt irritated at being ignored, ‘we will leave later today. First you may visit Henry, if you wish, to say your goodbye. Then I will access you physically and mentally. If I feel it necessary upon this examination then you will stay with me for a predetermined period of time.’

Even as he spoke I felt myself tense, unable to expel the sinking feeling that overwhelmed me. It was clear that if I were allowed to say goodbye to Henry that I was very likely going away for some time. Thus the doctor had already sealed my fate before his assessment; I was to return to the asylum.

_I never even got to say goodbye to Thomas._

Yet as he continued to speak I heard raised voices in the hallway. I tried to ignore it and focus on the doctor who seemed every bit as distracted by the new noise as I was.

‘Josephine,’ I heard abruptly being called out.

Automatically I turned to the noise to see Thomas standing in the doorframe. He looked slightly breathless and Annie stood by his side with a confused expression upon her face. Yet I only had eyes for Thomas. _Was he really here?_ His eyes darted briefly to the doctor before fixating on me again, scanning me over quickly as I did the same to him. Yes, he was here – truly here; I knew that bright curious look, his tall towering presence, his porcelain skin, dark locks of hair slightly astray at the moment, his slightly weather beaten and faded clothes though perfectly tailored were at least a decade out of fashion. He was here - for me! _I suddenly felt elated. He had returned – he had not run away. He had kept his promise! He really loved me then!_

I smiled warmly, never so happy to see a person since my remaining family passed away. ‘Thomas,’ I said simply, for he had taken my very breath away.

‘Oh Josephine, darling,’ he said crossing the room quickly and enveloping me tightly in his arms as I quickly stood up. ‘I just heard the news. Are you alright?’

‘Yes - no,’ I confessed in a whisper. He stroked my hair softly and I nearly melted against his frame by the comfort of his touch, his presence. ‘I just cannot believe it - ’

‘Now, wait a second here,’ the grey haired man demanded briskly. The doctor eyed Thomas warily, clearly in distaste of his sudden intrusion. ‘Who are you?’

‘Oh, please excuse my manners,’ Thomas said with a slight smile, yet locking me firmly to his side with one hand whilst extending his other. The doctor shook it slowly, clearly still wary of Thomas. ‘I guess we haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet. I am Josephine’s fiancé.’

Thomas had his arm firmly coiled around my waist whilst his large palm firmly held my hip, thus lodging me tight against his body. I felt as though I was being constricted by a python yet it was just as well he held me so tight for when he introduced himself as my fiancé I just about collapsed against him.

‘Oh darling, you’re positively faint,’ Thomas noted feeling my body significantly sag against his. He guided me to sit back down on the chair. ‘It must be the shock.’

‘I’m fine, really,’ I answered, yet firmly held Thomas’ hand as I sat down. My eyes were wide and stared into his own. I was surprised to see how calm he looked – no unease or guilt seem to be etched upon his handsome face, instead he appeared genuinely concerned. ‘It’s the shock of seeing Henry like that is so distressing. He has been taken to hospital. I must go to see him right away,’ I babbled on trying to keep my cool and remember my story. All the while I felt a light sweat break out over my body, yet I felt terribly cold. To be here in this room with my past and my present so awfully intertwined as though history was repeating itself was horrible. _Poor Thomas_ , my mind deplored feebly. _Arriving just to say goodbye – surely he would leave once the doctor explained I was for the asylum once more._

‘Oh, my dear, of course it was,’ Thomas answered sympathetically. ’And of course, you must visit him as soon as possible. I shall go with you.’

‘Now just wait a minute here!’ exclaimed the other male presence in the room making his voice known to Thomas again. He continued to eye him distastefully whilst I squeezed Thomas’ hand and allowed my gaze to fall to the floor. I felt faint and closed my eyes at the sound of this other voice, which was gruff as Thomas’ was velvet. ‘Who is this man?’

Thomas blue eyes stared upon my reaction and then fell upon the man coldly in return. ‘Forgive me, I thought I made that clear,’ Thomas answered briskly. Suddenly I was aware of just how much he resembled his sister, his tone became eerily as sharp as Lucille’s, his body language poised, and his frame fully erect and towering over the other male. My skin prickled uncomfortably as I felt the room’s atmosphere suddenly change, from polite curiosity to angst. ‘I repeat, my name is Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet. And like I said, I am Josephine’s fiancé.’

‘Fiancé?’ The man answered, almost in a teasing sneer as he suddenly looked back to me. His grey moustache bristled slightly as he let out a guff of breath as though amused by such an idea. ‘What nonsense is this Josephine?’

My stomach twisted uncomfortably and I longed to vanish on the spot. ‘Excuse me, Dr Conrad,’ I began slowly, finding it hard to make eye contact for any period of time with him or indeed to draw breath. So instead I found myself staring to mine and Thomas’ interlocking hands, before continuing in a shakey tone. ‘I am en - ’

‘This is Dr Conrad?’ Thomas snapped, his eyes looking no longer cold, but burning as he stared at the older gentlemen. He stepped closer to me, one hand still tightly holding my own whilst half-shielding me from the doctor with his body. ‘What is he doing here, Josephine?’

I nodded, finding it hard to look at either man, yet finding a comfort in Thomas _. Thomas had never hurt you Josephine, you can trust him –_ my mind urged _._ ‘Yes Thomas,’ I whispered, keeping my eyes firmly closed again. ‘Henry had arranged for Dr Conrad to pay a visit this morning for a check-up. He arrived just as Henry was been taken away.’

‘You’ve heard of me then, Mr Sharpe?’ Dr Conrad asked nonplussed, his face trying to remain impassive but his cheeks turning redder by the second.

‘Indeed,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘All about you!’

Dr Conrad smiled making my stomach lurch once more so I quickly turned my head away. ‘Well, I doubt that very much.’

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Thomas snapped, quickly looking from the doctor to me. I twisted uncomfortably as I felt Thomas’ gaze upon me.

Doctor Conrad laughed. ‘Hmmmm…looks like your fiancé has one or two secrets hidden from you. If I were you - ’

‘ENOUGH!’ Thomas cried suddenly causing me to jump forward. ‘What business have you here? I suggest you leave at once. We no longer require your services.’

Conrad’s smile vanished and his face grew livid. ‘Like me or not, I was called here to attend to Josephine. I am the doctor here and - ’

‘I must say, I do not think much of your methods, _doctor,’_ Thomas spat in disgust.

‘I see you also are familiar with my work’,’ Doctor Conrad replied in a forced drool tone – his ruddy face gave him away.

‘I’ve seen your results in the flesh,’ Thomas retorted quickly. ‘Josephine no longer needs your treatment. She is my fiancé and I know best.’

‘What lovely sentiment. However, Henry did send me here to check on her,’ Doctor Conrad said, a smile appearing on his face. ‘I need to give her a full body check-up. She will very likely need to spend time at my asylum. See dear Henry seemed most upset – he even sent his message to me overnight. He was _very_ particular about giving Josephine a thorough exam – now I think I know why.’

I gripped Thomas’ hand tighter as he spoke unable to shake the pressing fear of the doctor. I was going to be sick, or collapse… _my world was ending so why wasn’t I blacking out yet?_   Thomas squeezed my hand once more as though reminding me to breathe and I inhaled deeply.

‘Henry is no longer here,’ Thomas said impassively. ‘Nor is he in any fit state to carry out orders. As her fiancé, I - ’

‘Mr – eh, Sharpe, was it?’ Conrad queried in a light casual tone, yet it was laced with sarcasm. ‘You have no legal standing here.’

‘I am to be her husband!’ Thomas snapped, his tone growing hotter.

‘But you are not yet,’ Conrad replied coolly. ‘Until that time, I am under an obligation to continue to follow Henry’s orders. Henry, though unconscious, has the only legal standing in regards to decisions concerning Josephine than you do as her so called _fiancé_.’

‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ Thomas asked, gripping my hand so tightly now that it felt numb.

‘Well, it is rather odd, isn’t it?’ Conrad commented, eyes falling between Thomas and I. ‘Henry insisting to examine Josephine in a need so urgent he paid triple the usual cost to ensure the message would reach me by early this morning. In that letter he mentions a fear of Josephine being conned by some stranger, perhaps even with child. Yet when I arrive, Henry is suddenly involved in some _accident_ , and I discover Josephine engaged – I dare say Henry forgot to mention that in his letter, did he? And of course, the appearance of a mystery man.’

 _He knew too much. He was going to piece this all together, if he hasn’t already._ I felt myself grow more faint and tried to breathe deeply all the while aware that fainting right now would not do any good to neither Thomas nor I. Yet my body was weak and weary, my mind unclear and my heart racing. I was tired, scared and confused as Thomas stared upon me with a slightly pitying look upon his face.

Thomas then did something so unexpected that it snapped me right out of my panicked state – he laughed, throwing his head back laughing heartily so that I had to look upon him with concern. ‘Fancy yourself a detective?’ he laughed, his face bright and giddy. ‘Why, what an imagination you have! Tell me, do you really believe the word of a drunken lunatic over that of our reason and logic?’

Conrad looked as though Thomas has slapped him, his eyes were wide and stared at Thomas incredulously.  ‘What – what do you mean?’

Thomas was still smiling as though highly amused by Conrad’s attitude. ‘It is no secret Henry was a drunk – an abusive one. He was involved in an accident because he was drunk again, it was bound to happen sooner or later. As for his letter – how can I possibly fathom the mind of a drunk? He was paranoid, Doctor Conrad, and imbalanced. He knew of mine and Josephine’s engagement, he knew since his return from the north of England when they both visited me. Since then Josephine has been subject to his abuse – I only recently learned of how bad it got and came to London at once to marry my fiancé and legally take her from this horrible home.’

Doctor Conrad was momentarily struck dumb. ‘Well – I still have my doubts. I have been the Warren’s physician for some years now.’

‘Ah yes, dear _doctor_ ,’ Thomas sneered in triumph. ‘Your methods are quite unique aren’t they? I wonder what area of expertise you have, if any. Not only a doctor who treats maladies of the mind, but a family physician also? Why I would not be surprised if I were you to find you under investigation any day now by the authorities so I recommend you watch your step. Who knows what leaking bad news to the press could do for your business? ’

‘Is that a threat?’ Conrad barked stepping closer to Thomas now his face a glowing red.

‘Just a fact,’ Thomas replied calmly. ‘I wonder how families of patients would react if they knew what kind of facility you _really_ run.’

‘You don’t know who you threat, boy,’ Doctor Conrad growled.

‘Nor you,’ Thomas said sharply. ‘You know not who I am or what I can do. I will be taking Josephine from here at once.’

‘She is not going anywhere,’ Doctor Conrad answered stepping closer to us. ‘She has no legal obligation to go with you. Besides, I have yet to examine her.’

‘She wants to come with me,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘And I want her by my side. Tell me Conrad, how much does Henry pay you for your unusual methods? I imagine you look the other way when assessing certain patient’s tragic history for the right price. Tut, tut and you a man of logic. Should word get out that you ignored and repeatedly broke the law for your own financial gain – well there will be trouble, don’t you think?’

‘How dare you!’ Conrad barked stepping even closer now. He quickly reached for my shoulder not before Thomas grabbed his hand and swiftly punched him in his face.

‘Thomas!’ I cried out, making to stand up at once.

Doctor Conrad looked shocked, holding his bloody lip with a shaking hand. ‘You’ll pay for this!’

Thomas held me back behind him with his arm. ‘I highly doubt it,’ he said coolly before leading me out of the room. ‘Not if you wish to continue practising medicine.’

‘Come back!’ roared Conrad, throatily.

Thomas led out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom. I found Annie standing at the top of the landing her eyes round and scared as she stared between Thomas and I with restrained curiosity but made no comment. _If she were to arouse suspicion right now – Annie knew Thomas and I were not even on speaking terms yesterday. And now here we were, engaged just as Henry is gravely injured. If she were to say anything to Doctor Conrad…_

‘Annie dear,’ I whispered, my voice still shaking trying to remain calm after all that just unfolded. ‘You must go home and rest. You’ve had quite a shock this morning. You may take time off – with pay of course – to recover.’

‘Thank you, Ms Warren,’ Annie said with a curt bow but she seemed to be struggling to say something else and kept leaning on one foot and then the other.

‘What is it?’ I asked trying not to worry her further. ‘Speak clearly now.’

‘Well Ms, I ‘eard you, Mr Sharpe and the doctor talking just now,’ Annie said quietly. ‘I couldn’t ‘elp overhearing. And well – I know you ‘ad it rough with ‘enry so well I reckon you earned a good man like Thomas to help you out of the situation.’

I smiled, feeling slightly relieved. ‘Thank you, Annie.’

‘Anyway Ms,’ Annie continued. ‘If the doctor asks me, I’ll tell ‘em that you and Thomas were engaged since your return.’

‘Oh Annie!’ I exclaimed, letting go of Thomas’ hand to hug her tightly. She grinned almost coyly as I let her go. I quickly reached into my gown pocket to retrieve my purse and emptied the entire contents into Annie’s hands with my own shaking ones.

‘But Ms!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is far too much! I only want to ‘elp – not for the money but for you.’

‘I know. Consider this a well-earned bonus for dealing with Henry and I,’ I whispered, my eyes filling quickly. ‘It should help you and your family for a few months, for I honestly do not know if I will return and you will not be left alone with Henry.’

‘Oh Ms, thank you, thank you!’ Annie exclaimed, pocketing the money and looking truly lost for words.

‘I will give you a glowing reference too, Annie,’ I promised holding the girls hands tightly. ‘Take time to yourself – to enjoy life and family before searching for work. I’ll be sure to send a reference to your home when you see fit to find another job.’

‘And so will I if you need it,’ Thomas added kindly, one arm still firmly holding me against his waist once more.

‘Thank you!’ Annie squealed.

‘No, thank you, Annie,’ Thomas whispered.

‘Now simply head straight home, dear, alright?’ I assured her.

She nodded and beamed before hugging me once more and departing down the stairs as Thomas lead me to my bedroom.

‘This is good, very good,’ Thomas said fervishly as he took my pre-packed bag from under my bed.

I sat on my bed, trying to mentally assess what has just happened, yet it seemed impossible to fully digest.

 _Henry was gone – defeated by Thomas for now._ _Doctor Conrad failed to assess me at all or place me back into the asylum – again defeated by Thomas. And now – now I was leaving this house – again thanks to Thomas._  ‘It is?’ I queried my voice shaking. I was tired yet so happy, deeply confused yet almost giddy with relief. _The only thing I was certain of right now was Thomas – he had been in my life only a short while yet utterly transformed it. What had I done for him, besides causing him pain and guilt?_

‘We have an alibi!’ he exclaimed. 'That Annie is a god sent!'

I nodded, trying to seem equally happy, yet something on my face must have suggested otherwise for Thomas quickly stood before me.

‘Oh darling, what is it?’ Thomas asked crouching down in front of me at the end of the bed. ‘Is it Henry? He’ll be alright in time and the odds are he will be far too drunk to remember his accident.’

I nodded feeling slightly guilty that the reason I was down was not my injured brother. ‘I know it’s just having _him_ in this house…’

‘Dr Conrad?’ Thomas offered. ‘He doesn’t know anything for sure about what happened to Henry, does he? I mean nothing he can really prove so - ’

‘It’s not about Henry,’ I mumbled quickly.

‘Then what is it?’ Thomas asked, his blue eyes making me feel so exposed as they looked over my face. ‘Does he remind you of the asylum? D-did something happen with him? He seems to think you have one or two secrets you have not shared with me?’

I nodded feeling tears gather in my eyes.

‘Oh my darling girl,’ Thomas replied soothingly gathering me in his arms as he quickly sat on the bed beside me. ‘You can tell me if you want – you can share anything with me.’

‘I can?’ I asked feeling racked by guilt as he coddled me close. I felt like a mere child in his lap.

‘Of course you can,’ he answered assuredly, one hand stroking my hair soothingly. ‘Anything.’

‘But what if the truth is too horrifying?’ I whispered, tears threatening to fall rapidly. ‘What if you hear this and hate me?’

‘I will never hate you,’ Thomas answered. ‘I came back for you, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, but - ’

‘But nothing. I love you and trust you with my life. I thought I had proved that thoroughly to you by now,’ Thomas said, a slightly cold edge to his tone making my skin prickle in an unknown uncertainty. ‘I thought you felt the same.’

‘Of course I do!’ I exclaimed raising my head to look into Thomas’ eyes, which were eerily blank. _Had I hurt his feelings?_   Feeling tremendously guilty I quickly added. ‘I’m sorry. My past is so dark I wonder if you will change your mind once you know it. I’ve never had “happily ever after” – I thought it were a child’s tale! And yet here I am now so close to it - I fear it will go wrong some how.’

‘Josephine,’ Thomas sighed before kissing my forehead. ‘I understand that happiness seems at times, like a tale one tells a child, but what I feel for you is real. It is not your past which concerns me but our future. I told you once that demons lie in my past too, yet you did not run. Nor shall I. We can help one another. Whenever you want to share your past, please do. And I will share mine.’

For a moment I was struck dumb by Thomas’ sentiment. _He must really love me so to willingly take on my murky past which must be so much darker than his own._ ‘I – I…’ I struggled to get the words out and merely buried my head against Thomas’ chest and allowed him to continue to soothingly rub my back whilst his other hand lightly toyed with my hair. ‘I will tell you – someday. Not right now. There’s too much to worry about at the moment, what with Henry and Doctor Conrad …’

‘Hush now, darling,’ Thomas whispered softly. ‘It’ll be ok. We can discuss it later when you are ready. And I am here to help you with Henry and Doctor Conrad, for what are husbands for?’

It took a few moments for his words to sink in, my body was so soothed to be resting against his. ‘A-are you serious?’

Thomas nodded and kissed the bridge of my nose. ‘Yes, of course I am, my sweet darling. Only if you’ll have me.’

‘I – I thought that it was just a rouse – part of our alibi?’ I croaked, feeling steeped in confusion. The last twenty-four hours were so confusing and filled with mixed emotions, so much so that I thought tiredness had now severely set in and I had misheard Thomas greatly.

Thomas smiled as he slowly set me off his lap and on the edge of the bed. ‘No my darling, I loved you from the moment I saw you – that is true. I wanted to tell you when we were free from Henry’s grasp and whilst our initial plan has changed my feelings have not. And thus to help you free from Henry and Doctor Conrad’s grasp once and for all, I think it better we do this sooner rather than later,’ Thomas explained before getting down on one knee before me. My heart filled with warmth and my face lit up as I watched him retrieve a small box from his pocket. A dazzling ring lay inside with a blood red ruby sparkling almost hypnotically. Thomas eyes filled and his hand shook slightly as he continued ‘My sweet Josephine, I love you. From the moment I saw you until my heart stops beating I will always love you. I know that circumstances are not ideal right now, but if not in one’s darkest times can we profess love and cherish it all the more, then when can we? Oh darling, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Briefly I considered saying no, but the more Thomas spoke the more I realised I needed him. Yes we needed to stick together to form an alibi but I loved him from the moment I saw him too. He was quiet, intelligent and witty yet shrouded with mystery. I was completely drawn to him since I met him. And he was right – in my darkest times I usually coped alone, I had grown accustomed to it. But now I had Thomas which saw me through. And I would do anything for him also. _Sweet, innocent Thomas who had stood up for me, fought for me and damn near killed for me_.

‘Oh Thomas – yes of course I will!’ I exclaimed. Thomas beamed and laughed quickly placed the ring on my engagement finger. I laughed almost giddily as he did so and then quickly kissed him, blinded by tears – both our tears as he smiled into the kiss.

‘Oh Josephine, I love you, darling,’ Thomas whispered pressing his forehead against mine.

‘And I love you!’ I said back causing him to laugh giddily.

‘Oh dearest, we should get married today then!’ Thomas added.

I felt my heart nearly stop beating at this. ‘ _What?!_ ’

‘Why not sweet girl? Just a small courthouse affair, or maybe a church if we can convince a priest,’ Thomas explained, his eyes widening with excitement. ‘We love each other and I can legally remove you from Dr Conrad’s care and this home at once too.’

‘You would do that for me?’ I asked in disbelief.

‘Why yes darling, of course I would!’ Thomas answered, his eyes blue eyes dazzling earnestly.

***

By the time Thomas and I had stopped crying in a giddy, happy haze we had to return downstairs and exit out the front door. For as Thomas explained we must leave this place with our heads held high, guilt free and calmly. Yet I found this hard as upon going down the stairs I noticed Doctor Conrad waiting by the door, no doubt planning on speaking to us before we left. Thomas held my hand firmly, the other held my luggage. He only briefly left my hand go to help me with my coat all the while Doctor Conrad watched us in disbelief.

‘You really mean to do this, Josephine?’ he asked, a slight desperate edge to his voice.

Thomas opened the door quickly and guided my trembling frame passed Doctor Conrad in silence.

‘Very well Josephine,’ Conrad said quietly as I passed him. ‘You give me no choice. I am afraid I will have to tell Thomas what I know.’

I froze momentarily. ‘Ignore him, darling,’ Thomas said kindly gently tugging my frame out the door. ‘Remember I love you always, no matter what.’

‘I know she is expecting, Mr Sharpe!’ Conrad called after us, his voice carrying effortlessly down the driveway.

Thomas stopped and looked down at me warily. ‘Henry’s lies,’ I sighed shaking my head but was interrupted by Conrad laughing behind us. Yet Thomas turned, our hands still locked tightly together.

‘Well of course she’ll deny it!’ Conrad cried out delighted that Thomas had faced him. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time!’

‘I told you already – Henry is a paranoid drunk. Josephine and I have never been intimate,’ Thomas answered coolly as my face turned ashen-grey. ‘Yet if you choose to believe such drunken thoughts - no doubt for the money you get paid - it matters not to me if we were expecting for we are to be married soon anyway’ he answered calmly.

‘We?’ Conrad grinned, a slightly bizarre unnaturally grin which exposed his bloody lip and crimson stained teeth. His eyes briefly flickered to mine before falling back to Thomas’ and I suddenly realised Conrad knew I was not pregnant, but was using this as an excuse to reveal perhaps the single greatest dark secret from my past.

‘Let’s go now, Thomas, please,’ I begged in a deeply trembling whisper. I gripped Thomas’ hand and made to pull us away sharply yet Thomas watched Conrad as though transfixed. I suddenly froze, realising it was too late – Doctor Conrad had Thomas’ full attention now.

Conrad laughed, a strange high pitched laughed that sent a violent shiver down my very spine. ‘We?’ Conrad repeated again. ‘Hmm, let’s put it another way Mr Sharpe, what if she were expecting and the child were not yours? What then? Would you still want to marry her if she carried another man’s bastard?’ Conrad’s eyes then fell to mine. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it Josephine?’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

 

Thomas had clutched my hand after Henry’s accident. He held my hand like a little boy would his mothers, lightly tugging it to get away from the uncomfortable scene. Now the roles were reversed and I were tugging his hand only vaguely aware of the irony.

I had to leave. I could not deal with this. Some things were best left buried.

_Please walk away, Thomas. Do not hear this man out._

This I wanted to say, but no words fell from my lips as though I had been struck mute.

‘What do you mean?’ Thomas asked, letting go of my hand and stepping closer to Conrad.

I felt as though I had been punched in the middle as he let my hand go. It was a rejection by him of us – of me - and that frightened me so much that I found my voice. ‘Don’t listen to him Thomas,’ I whispered, not entirely sure my voice was loud enough for him to hear. ‘Thomas, please.’

Thomas showed no signs of hearing me. His back was to me, his front facing the direction of Doctor Conrad who smiled malevolently over Thomas’ shoulder at me, perhaps knowing he had finally won Thomas’ undivided attention.

I was struck by a sudden anger at that smirking face. _You bastard! You sick, sick, man for dragging Thomas into this and for bringing up the past – my past!_ I wanted to say this, but yet again no words fell from my lips. Anger was useless – I knew that from experience. _For_ _how could I fight the devil himself?_ Instead I took a deep shaking breath and glared at him, yet when his eyes met mine, I shamefully dropped my gaze becoming, as I always did in the company of this man, a submissive mouse which he frequently toyed with. _He shouldn’t be here._

 ‘Josephine,’ Conrad answered calmly, ‘I see you’ve been keeping secrets from your fiancé.’

‘You – you should leave us,’ I whispered, my head still bowed as further shame washed over me along with a rising sense of panic. _Soon, he would expose me._

‘Look at you. You’re finally answering me back. You do seem to have a spark of fire these days,’ Conrad said in feigned surprised as though he were pacifying a child. ‘Pity you didn’t have it back then. We could have avoided so much … mess. Though I guess all that fire was knocked out of you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Thomas interjected sharply. He sounded rather authoritative. His frame was erect and he held a demanding air. His demeanour oozed charm yet demanded attention. I could not help but wonder if he suspected my secret being unravelled by Conrad. He was a smart man after all, he suspected something of my dark past by now. I felt my chest tightening at my own realisations.

 _What if he longed to have the very worst of me confirmed? And then, he would have a tangible reason to leave. His code of honour would surely not extend to lunatics or hysterics?_ _Why then, he could leave me, guilt free._

As I continued to stare at the back of Thomas, I felt growingly bereft as though knowing the inevitable rejection would feel as though I lost a loved one once more. I would grieve for the loss. Yet, I made up my mind that I would not cause a fuss. I would leave him go, not cling to him. I wanted him to be happy. I felt my chest tighten further and suddenly wanted to escape both these men. If he were to leave, he should do so soon before my forced resolve faded.

Conrad looked at Thomas smugly as though delighted by the sudden attentiveness he was receiving. ‘I _really_ shouldn’t be telling you. There is a certain level of privacy expected between doctor and patient – but if I think she’s a risk to herself -’

‘I am not!’ I cried out suddenly, frightening even myself as both men stared at me. I would not be dismissed as a wallflower now. ‘I am not the one who poses a risk to - ’

‘Hush now child, the men are talking,’ Conrad interjected quickly, his grin reflecting just how much he was enjoying this moment. ‘Where was I? Oh yes, as I was saying, Mr Sharpe, what if she were expecting and the child were not yours? It has happened before you know. ’

‘Thomas,’ I pleaded, my voice carrying out across the morning air. As much as I knew Thomas deserved the truth, I abruptly realised that it should not come from Doctor Conrad as he could not be trusted. ‘Please, let’s just leave. I will tell you if you insist on it, but you should not hear this from him.’

Thomas faced me again. His eyes were rounded, yet it wasn’t accusatory, more along the lines of caution. I shrank before his gaze. ‘Let him speak, Josephine. Whatever he may think, whatever he may say, it will change nothing between us. He will not stop until he tells me. He thinks he can hold control over you with this secret. It stops now.’

I didn’t realise I was crying until my vision grew blurred. I quickly wiped my eyes. ‘Thomas I - ’

‘Quiet woman!’ Conrad interrupted, yet he truly looked delighted by my response. ‘The man wants to hear. If he’s telling you the truth, then he will love you no matter what I say. Your darkest secret and all.’

I reached forward for Thomas’ hand. ‘Please don’t do this,’ I begged, clasping his hand tightly once more. I felt suddenly desperate and hated myself for it. Yet I knew that he should not hear this from Conrad. ‘He twists truths, Thomas. He gets between people - ’

‘And it stops today,’ Thomas reasoned calmly, yet he barely looked at me as he spoke, his eyes ghosted to Conrad once more.

‘Silly little girl,’ Conrad said, watching me with abundant glee before looking back at Thomas. Thomas faced him fully once again, but this time remained clasping my hand. ‘Where do I begin?’ Conrad asked, eyeing us with a mirthful look. ‘I guess the most important question to ask is did you know she were engaged before, Mr Sharpe?’

‘No,’ Thomas answered stiffly.  

 _No, no, this was wrong,_ I thought as I panicked once more. _Not like this, he shouldn’t hear it like this._

‘Is that so?’ Conrad asked, his voice raised in feigned surprise. ‘So you _have_ been keeping secrets from your fiancé, Ms Warren. Shame on you. You should - ’

‘Leave her be,’ Thomas interrupted, his grip on my hand tightening. ‘Is that all? I hardly see the need for the dramatics. Why even I was engaged before.’

I listened intently as Thomas confessed he had been engaged previously. _Had he mentioned that before?_ I tried to push this from my mind and focus on the matters at hand.

‘No,’ Conrad said, his wide smile fading slightly. ‘That is not it all. Did you know she was once pregnant too?’

The very air seemed to grow thin and the silence grow loud. Yet a strange hum filled my ears and I felt dizzy as I took a step back. _That was … private. In the past. Gone…_

I quickly glanced at Thomas to find him already staring down at me, his blue eyes rapidly filling with surprise. His eyebrows raised slightly as though silently querying his disbelief. I nodded once. His hand twitched in mine as though he considered pulling it away from me. His blue orbs lost their usual bright glow and now looked hurt and dejected. I wanted to simply vanish into thin air.

‘I take it by that lengthy pause that you did not know about _that_ , Mr Sharpe?’ Conrad said, before letting out a dry laugh. ‘She must have decided to hide that from you too. She was engaged, not long after her fathers and sisters death. Around the same time as that announcement, she discovered she was pregnant. I diagnosed her myself.’

The humming noise grew louder and I was blinded by more tears. ‘That was … private. Private and the past and gone…’ I took a step back from Thomas, letting go of his hand and trying to solely focus on my breathing as for the second time this morning. ‘Not like this, he shouldn’t hear it like this,’ I muttered, speaking quietly but barely realising I was doing so. I was becoming overcome by memories of the asylum.

 

 

_The room was dark, it smelled strange and there was a dripping noise in the corner opposite. There was no bed in here – no furniture of any kind. Just a smooth stone floor, exposed brick walls and the constant drip, drip, drip...They took all the furniture away. I think they feared I would try to hurt myself or that I would see the dark shadows again so they took away all the distractions._

_The drip, drip, drip was the only noise in here besides my breathing. The silence was terrifying. Yet I feared as time passed by that I was not by myself in here..._

_I began to notice the slight swell of my stomach. At first I convinced myself it was malnutrition of some kind. I wished it were. But I was fed. Not a whole lot but enough to avoid severe malnutrition. Thus I had no choice but to acknowledge what my body was telling me, what my missed monthlies, my nausea, my sensitive taste and smell, my tender breasts all seemed to scream at me. I ignored it for as long as I could. I was scared to touch my middle. Scared to admit that this was happening. So I ignored it for as long as I could…_

_Drip, drip, drip, over and over and over. A constant noise. Sometimes I counted them before I fell asleep or cried or screamed. When I screamed he would come. He would come and “calm me”. His touch repulsed me. I tried to bite him the last time he came here. I broke through his skin and drew blood. I was punished for that … so I stopped screaming._

_I heard the door creak loudly as it opened slowly. So he was here now too? I could smell him. Oh, I knew that smell. The sweat, the booze, the stench of cigars all the more apparent to me now in my current state. I feel sick to my stomach yet not because of the nausea, but because it was him..._

_Drip, drip, drip..._

_‘Josephine?’ he called out quietly. I pushed up deeper against the stone wall, whilst trying feebly to hide as much as my frame permitted me to curl up in itself. It was not as easy as it used to be. My middle seemed to protest each movement as though I were sea sick. I was never comfortable on the stone floor anymore. I found it hard to sleep. I wanted out now. I did not know what that meant but I knew that I wanted this to stop. So tired..._

_Drip, drip, drip...one, two, three…_

_I could smell him even though he was standing up by the now closed door – some good three feet from me; the sweat, the booze, the stench of cigars. I could smell his stench from here._

_Drip, drip, drip...four, five, six…_

_‘Josephine?’ he called again, making my skin crawl. ‘How do you feel today – still nauseous?’_

_I nodded once, submissively._

_Drip, drip, drip..._

_‘Well that is to be expected for now. At least you have this room to yourself, huh? Cost a small fortune too, but I guess you need it – all things considered.’_

 

‘Josephine,’ someone called from far away. ‘Josephine, darling, answer me, please.’

I opened my eyes, slightly surprised that I were not in the asylum, or my bed or the coal shed, but in the cold early morning of London in my driveway. I looked up to see Thomas standing before me with a look of deep concern etched onto his face. ‘Hush now,’ Thomas said, wiping my cheek with the back of his hands. I realised I was crying and shaking. ‘Hush now,’ he continued. ‘All is well. I am here for you still. See? Conrad has said his peace and like I said, it matters not, I still love you.’

He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close to him, lightly kissing the top of my head. ‘Let’s go now, darling.’

‘I’m not finished yet,’ a voice said in a clearly annoyed tone. It took me a minute to realise Conrad was still here with us in the driveway.

Thomas looked down at me and sighed reluctantly before staring back at Conrad. ‘I think I’ve heard enough. Besides, Josephine, if she chooses to tell me, will do so in her own time.’

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at this but it was only briefly felt for Doctor Conrad spoke again. ‘Trust me, you should hear this now.’

I swallowed thickly. Thomas seemed torn as he stared between Conrad and I. Finally, he spoke to me. ‘Darling maybe I should just listen? Then he will stop this nonsense. I’ll stand by you no matter what he says because I love you.’

I shook my head, desperately trying not to start crying once again. It was hard to do so when I knew Conrad was watching me closely. ‘Don’t you see?’ I whispered so only Thomas could hear me. ‘That’s precisely why I cannot tell you…I’m scared that you will no longer love me when you hear this. It’s my past, my secret. I will tell you when I am ready. So I am asking you – no, I’m begging you to please just leave now. If you truly love me, you will do this. I can’t relive this through him. I can’t…’ my voice croaked in a broken whisper. ‘Please?’

Thomas stared at me for several seconds in complete silence. His face was unreadable but his blue eyes seemed to suggest he was internally struggling with how to react next. I remained unmoved, knowing I could not bear for the truth to come put like this. Finally he nodded, a surprisingly gentle smile crossing his face. ‘Let us go then,’ he said. Thomas turned to face Conrad. ‘We’re leaving. So you can keep your twisted versions of the past to yourself,’ he said briskly.

‘But, aren’t you curious?’ Conrad queried after us as we started to walk away from him.  

Thomas did not answer answered he merely picked up my luggage and wrapped his free arm around my waist as we walked on. I heard footstep running behind us down the gravel driveway.

‘Wait Mr Sharpe!’ Conrad said, catching up with us unexpectedly quickly. ‘You should know. The man she was engaged to the last time and the man who got her pregnant were not the same – she’s a whore, Mr Sharpe!’

Thomas stopped walking and I feared the worst as shame washed over. Bracing myself for his departure, I bit my lower lip and tried to look somewhat dignified. However, Thomas turned just as Doctor Conrad reached us and quickly dropped my luggage. He let go of my waist just as Conrad opened his mouth to speak in apparent relief. ‘That’s it, Mr Sharpe,’ he said in a condescending tone. ‘This woman is a lunatic and a whor - ’

He never finished this statement for Thomas curled his fist and planted a punch squarely into the side of Conrad’s jaw, knocking him off his feet.

‘I said to keep it to yourself!’ Thomas spat from over Conrad body. He looked livid, his dark locks in disarray, and panting over the bloody crumpled lump that was Doctor Conrad before his feet. I stared I awe, feeling a slight rush of satisfaction to see Conrad hurt.

Thomas picked up my luggage and wrapped his arm around my waist once more. ‘Let’s leave here then, darling,’ he said smoothly as though nothing untoward had happened and quickly led me away from my family home at last.

****

****

 

**_Thomas’ POV_ **

 

Upon meeting Doctor Conrad I discovered that I did not like him. Why exactly I took an instant distaste for the doctor, I did not precisely know. Perhaps it was the general fear he instilled in Josephine when she spoke about him in the past. Perhaps it was the fear evident by her demeanour in front of him for she seemed submissive and quiet in his presence. She seemed anxious too and full of fear. Or perhaps, it was because I had seen Doctor Conrad in the past and thus knew what type of man he was rumoured to be. Therefore I knew I had to remove Josephine from his presence immediately.

Yet he peaked my curiosity. I just had to know Josephine’s secrets. I knew of her dark past but she never spoke of it. _I needed to know._ And so, with curiosity driving me forward, I lingered in the driveway hoping that Josephine’s past would finally be revealed. Momentarily, I walked from Josephine closer to Conrad. My overzealous urge to discover what horror lay behind her eclipsed any other thought and need.

However, Conrad seemed intent on dragging this out. He clearly enjoyed the power and attention his presence was wielding. Josephine finally worked up the courage to answer him and her voice seemed to wake me up from my almost hypnotic urge to hear Conrad out. A twinge of guilt passed over me, but I tried to ignore it. _After all, had not I the right to know her past? Surely as her soon to be husband I had to know what secrets she kept from me._  Yet despite this need I grew slightly annoyed by his taunting of Josephine. And I was not in the mood to be toyed with.

‘Thomas,’ Josephine pleaded. ‘Please, let’s just go Thomas. I will tell you if you insist on it, but you should not hear this from him.’

Her pleading tugged at my very heart and so I faced her fully, noting how she seemed to flinch before my eyes as though expecting some kind of physical rebuke from me. _Conrad had really left his imprint upon her_ , I thought. She also looked exhausted, her eyes were red, her skin deathly pale. I would do anything to keep her safe and to make her smile. _My poor lily, what anguish has the man caused you to tremble so before him? I need to know._ ‘Let him speak, Josephine,’ I said in what I hoped was a gentle tone. ‘Whatever he may think, whatever he may say, it will change nothing between us. He will not stop until he tells me. He thinks he can hold control over you with this secret. It stops now.’

Once again, I only hoped to hear the truth. I hoped I could convince her to let him speak. Yet now I had slightly less resolve. Whatever truth she feared being discovered was causing her too much stress. I could see it in her eyes. I tried to reassure her by holding her hand once more trying to soothe her and let her know I was not about to leave.

‘Where do I begin?’ Conrad asked, eyeing us with a mirthful look. ‘I guess the most important question to ask is did you know that she were engaged before, Mr Sharpe?’

‘No,’ I answered stiffly as Josephine’s hand started to tremble in mine. I gave it a gentle squeeze but she seemed unaware of it.

‘Is that so?’ Conrad asked, his voice raised in feigned surprise. ‘So you _have_ been keeping secrets from your fiancé, Ms Warren. Shame on you. You should - ’

‘Leave her be,’ I interrupted, gripping her my hand tightening. ‘Is that all? I hardly see the need for the dramatics. Why even I was engaged before,’ I confessed hoping Josephine would know that I cared not about such things.

‘No,’ Conrad said, his wide smile fading slightly. ‘That is not it all. Did you know she was once pregnant too?’

I could only look at Josephine in shock at this revelation. _Engaged I could understand, but pregnant?_ She had never mentioned it – not once. Yet I felt an irrational stab of jealousy as I looked over Josephine’s body and rested almost instinctively on her middle. Truth be told I felt jealous she had been engaged before but knowing she had another lover was worse still. The thought of another man making love to her as I had done countless times in my fantasies made me extremely uncomfortable and livid. To picture her wanton, moaning and spread whilst in the throes of passion with some unrecognisable stranger between her legs was tantamount to torture. Worse yet, as I tried to imagine her middle swollen, her body curvier than ever, cheeks flush with the pregnancy glow, I could only feel irate with jealousy that it was not I who had made her so. _But then who had? Who was the father of her child? Where was he and the child?_ My eyebrows raised slightly in disbelief and Josephine nodded once as though confirming what I feared. I felt torn between jealousy and curiosity. 

‘I take it by that lengthy pause that you did not know about _that_ , Mr Sharpe?’ Conrad said, before letting out a dry laugh. ‘She must have decided to hide that from you too. She was engaged, not long after her fathers and sisters death. Around the same time as that announcement, she discovered she was pregnant. I diagnosed her myself.’

 I wanted to respond, yet was distracted by Josephine. She seemed to be shaking violently. ‘That was … private. Private and the past and gone…’ she muttered to seemingly no-one in particular as she took a step back from me, letting go of my hand. ‘Not like this, he shouldn’t hear it like this.’  Her eyes seemed to go out of focus, yet tears fell freely from them and she shook all the more as her breathing went laboured. Fearing she was having some sort of seizure I stepped in front of her and called her name yet she seemed not to hear.  

 ‘Josephine,’ I called again. ‘Josephine, darling, answer me, please.’

She opened her eyes, which were wide and surprised looking. And that’s when I realise just how traumatised Josephine was. I could not see her so distressed any longer. Whatever this was, I suspected was not a happy affair. _I had to help her. I had to take her from this horrible place because she had no one else too._ ‘Hush now,’ I said, wiping her cheek with the back of my hands as she trembled slightly still. ‘Hush now,’ I continued. ‘All is well. I am here for you still. See? Conrad said his peace and like I said, it matters not, I still love you.’ I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to me, lightly kissing the top of her head. ‘Let’s go now, darling.’

‘I’m not finished yet,’ said Conrad in a clearly annoyed tone.

I sighed reluctantly before staring back at Conrad. ‘I think I’ve heard enough. Besides, Josephine, if she chooses to tell me, will do so in her own time.’

‘Trust me, you should hear this now,’ Conrad adamantly retorted.

I felt a slight prickle of curiosity again. ‘Darling maybe I should just listen? Then he will stop this nonsense. I’ll stand by you no matter what he says because I love you.’

Josephine shook her head. ‘Don’t you see?’ she whispered. ‘That’s precisely why I cannot tell you … I’m scared that you will no longer love me when you hear this. It’s my past, my secret. I will tell you when I am ready. So I am asking you – no, I’m begging you to please just leave now. If you truly love me, you will do this. I can’t relive this through him. I can’t … Please?’

I stared at her in silence internally struggling with my curiosity and my need to protect Josephine. Yet her wide red eyes were filed with unimaginable fear and I did not want to worsen that for her. ‘Let us go then,’ I said, before turning to face Conrad. ‘We’re leaving. So you can keep your twisted versions of the past to yourself.’

I ignored Conrad and attempted to leave with Josephine by my side. Yet I heard footsteps running behind us down the gravel driveway.

‘Wait Mr Sharpe!’ Conrad said, catching up with us unexpectedly quickly. ‘You should know. The man she was engaged to the last time and the man who got her pregnant were not the same– she’s a whore, Mr Sharpe!’

I stopped walking, and let my anger override my senses. _How dare he speak of her that way just because of her past? Even though I were jealous, I still knew that she deserved to be protected not shamed because of her past._ I turned just as Doctor Conrad reached us and quickly dropped Josephine’s luggage and let go her waist before facing Conard. ‘That’s it, Mr Sharpe,’ he said in a condescending tone. ‘This woman is a lunatic and a whor - ’

I never let him finish his statement as my curled fists seemed to act of their own accord and planted a punch squarely into the side of Conrad’s jaw, knocking him off his feet.

‘I said to keep it to yourself!’ I spat over Conrad’s body, rage rushing through me.

‘Let’s leave here then, darling,’ I said smoothly hoping I had not scare her too much as I led her away from her family home at last.

***

 

_Dearest Lucille,_

_I send this to you mere hours after posting you my first letter. So much has happened I fear I need to update you at once. And so I write this by candlelight in my hotel room. I hope to have it sent in the mornings post._

_Firstly, I need to first confess how much I thought of you today. I needed and craved your presence beyond any words can adequately express. For today, after I sent you the first letter, things escalated out of control and I, unlike you, cannot deal with stress so strongly. I tried to emulate your courage and grace today. I can only hope I made you proud._

_Secondly, you should know that Henry’s accident may not be an accident at all. Still unconscious (and showing no signs of waking as of yet), he is thus still unable to fulfil his role as head of the household. Therefore all authority has passed over to Ms Warren. However she is suspected to have been involved in his accident though for now there is little evidence to support this. Also, her gender makes the authorities less likely to openly accuse her. Though, as we both know, the female of the species surpasses the male in strength, for they know strength is more than mere brute force._

_That brings me to my next point. Ms Warren risked being institutionalized today for her suspected involvement in Henry’s accident. Her past seems to haunt her; subject to abuse and prone to angry outbursts she is viewed by her family physician as a threat. With our future currently hinging on Ms Warren, I needed to act quickly. I had to intervene and claim responsibility for her. I could only do this by introducing myself as her fiancé. However, with the doctors from the asylum still posing a threat by removing Josephine, I needed to take a greater amount of control to secure her legal rights. Therefore at four o’clock this afternoon, Josephine and I married. She needed little persuasion for the threat of her imminent return to the asylum seemed to spur her reasoning that I was her safest option for protection from that horrid place. I convinced her that I loved her but we both know I have much experience in that. For now I must remain by her side. I am not sure when to start pushing for her family fortune to be transferred from Henry’s name to hers (and in return to us). I do not wish to rouse suspicion by insensitively querying her finances whilst she mourns her brother’s accident. Right now she sleeps in the room across from mine. Her dark past suggests she is distrustful and fears intimacy. I will explain this in more detail when I see you, but needless to say she possesses none of your courage or strength. For now she seems to suspect nothing of me and is only relieved to be out of her family home._

_I await your loving advice before I make my next move. Know no matter the miles between us, I think only of you; we stay together, never apart._

_Lovingly yours,_

 

_Thomas._


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

 

It had been six days since Dr. Conrad had revealed my secret to Thomas. Six full days had passed since Thomas discovered I was once engaged and pregnant. It had been six days since I had left my family home.

 _Six, six, six._ I mentally dwelled, stretching out in chaise lounge as the dwindling evening sunlight seeped through the hotels window.

I closed my eyes feeling for once a certain level of calm or was it peace? Either way it was wholly unfamiliar. I was currently comfortably laid out with a book in my hands, savouring the peace and silence. It was early afternoon but the fast approaching winter meant it would be dark soon. Truthfully, I did not know what I felt – a certain freedom perhaps? But with this came a sense of trepidation.

Yet, what had I to fear right now? Even now, in this moment, whilst wide awake and alert I would every so often pause in my reading, and hesitate at any unfamiliar faint sound or call even if it came from the floor below or the corridor outside. It was as though I were still on guard for something to happen but for what I did not know. Henry was still confined to his bed in hospital so he could not turn up to this hotel. He was recovering from a medical procedure known as a craniotomy to reduce swelling on his brain. Five days on Henry showed little signs of improvement only that his pupils responded to light. However, he was still bedridden and unconscious, only a twitching limb or slight groan an indication that he had any brain activity. The doctors explained to me that head injuries were largely unpredictable and patient recovery varied immensely. Henry may never wake up, and if he did, he may never be the same. The longer he was in this condition the less likely he would ever make a full recovery. Dr. Conrad, dropped by to see Henry and seemed to remain hopeful he would recover. He tried in vain to speak to Thomas and I but we insisted he leave the premises. When he would not leave quietly, Thomas had to request for orderlies to come and remove Conrad from the building. For now Conrad seemed to admit defeat and we had not heard from him since.

Six, six, six, I mentally chided once more, fully giving up on my reading now and focusing instead on the rapidly darkening sky outside. _Was it Thomas who made me nervous, or was it more that I feared my relationship with Thomas?_

Every morning now, every morning for the last six days, I expected Thomas to be gone when I awoke. I expected him to flee during the night having had time to fully consider my complicated past which he had heard from Conrad. Yet, he did not. Every morning I woke to see him lying beside me. Every morning my sleepy gaze fell upon him, steeped in confusion, as I wondered the same thing – _why?_ I would stare in awe at his beauty and defiance for he had chosen to stay by my side. Why, I was not sure. I was by all means a damaged woman in so many ways. To be pregnant outside the confines of marriage was a huge deal in the early twentieth century. Women like me were hidden away, never to hope for marriage or stability ever again. We were outcasts.

Nevertheless Thomas stayed by me. Sometimes he would be awake before me, and I would open my eyes to the perfect sight of him before me. “Good morning, my sleeping beauty,” he whispered, before leaning in to gently kiss my forehead. I would blush every time. Other mornings I would wake first and find him sleeping soundly. I dare not move for fear of waking him. Eventually he would wake too and face me, once more with his sweet half sleepy smile. Occasionally he would place his hand upon my cheek his thumb, idly rubbing to and fro and we would simply stare at each other, usually until sleep took me once again. 

I expected him to at the very least pry about my past, for we spent so much time now in the others company. Once completely alone and in private I kept expecting him to demand the entire story from me. Perhaps this lay at the heart of my fear. After all, he seemed surprised to hear I had once been engaged and downright shocked to hear I was once pregnant so I truly thought he would demand to know the truth by now. However, he did not mention it. Not once. And I was happy to never speak of it again. And so the days went by in a dream like haze, I only too happy to leave my memories of that dark period behind me. I gave in to my new found bliss. It was a strange new thing to experience happiness daily. To not greatly fear the night or flinch at the sound of my name being called. I only too happily allowed this happiness to wash over me, for I did not know how long it would last and I intended to make the most of it.

I closed my eyes curling deeper into the chair, my fingers toying with my new piece of jewellery as it so often did the last few nights as I grew lost in my thoughts. A ring was now on my fourth finger of my left hand – a symbol of my new status in the form of a ruby stoned ring. Huge, ornate and utterly dazzling, clearly an heirloom, which Thomas had placed upon my hand during the ceremony and it had stayed there ever since. With an almost youthful carefree giddiness he placed it upon there, kissing my hand and declaring himself proudly to be mine and I as his. The ruby had once belonged to his mother. The ceremony was short and occurred a few hours after we left Conrad. Thomas arranged it easily, and I wore my newest gown of soft cream – the closest to white obtainable at such short notice. Admittedly, I was hesitant to marry Thomas so quickly but had he not proven his love countless times, saved me and demonstrated his loyalty time and time again? I loved him, from the moment our paths crossed at Allerdale Hall was drawn to him. I knew Thomas was right to rush this or I would have no other choice but to return home, and eventually face Dr Conrad. So we exchanged vows and surprisingly I felt happy. Thomas after all, was a far better husband than I deserved. And I loved him, truly. Thomas seemed elated too. His pale face seemed flushed with happiness I had never seen.

I expected him to perhaps take advantage of his rights as my husband that night but he did not. Instead, he let me mercifully fall asleep early. The following nights were the same. Most of each day was spent by Henry’s bedside in hospital and I returned exhausted at the end of each one. I was nervous for we shared the same bed each night. However we changed into our night clothes separately in another room. Thomas would only kiss my forehead before going to sleep. He made no other indication that he wished for further contact. There was moments though, unspoken instances and actions, when it was clear there was a desire for something more between us. I would quite often feel conscious of his stare upon me. Sometimes, it was fleeting, other times it was tinged with a desire that made me hot in places I never had been before. Other times, he would be bolder, watch me with an unabashed stare that made me freeze on the spot. Mostly in the early mornings,dishevelled and half-asleep, if Thomas were awake before me, my side of the duvet would be slightly askew, revealing only my nightdress, which would have ridden up or been pulled during the night. It sounded silly, but I was convinced my new husband would stare at me from every angle as I slept - my breasts and my stomach seemed to gather most of his attention. Occasionally, I would feel the flutters of a touch there too as I slept, whether accidental or not I did not know. During the night he made little lingering contact with me but twice I felt him resolutely groan from behind me in his sleep. Last night I awoke in the early hours to find him groaning deeper than usual. I gently turned to chance a peek at him and saw his brow arched, eyes closed, face in a sheen of sweat, his dark curls spilled across his face, his hips jutted forward, as he lay on his side. I bit my lip and stared in silence at Thomas, who was so desperate, so vulnerable and so glorious yet I felt ashamed for spying on him in his frustrated sleep. Throwing caution to the wind and feeling brave and curious I scooted closer to him, my back to his front, under the pretence of stretching I brushed my lower back firmly against his middle. I heard him moan deeper and buck harder against me. I felt dizzy with elation and also slightly fearful. Quickly Thomas seemed to unconsciously grip my hip, his sweaty forehead pressed against my neck as a deep hum seemed to issue gutturally from his throat into my ear in hot puffs of breath. I froze at this, wondering what tune could possibly be going through his mind when he was so lustful? His hips rutted harder still against my back, his hard rigid cock wedged firmly between us discernible even through his pants. However as soon as this happened it quickly stopped and Thomas seemed to wake up, momentarily pause and then very slowly leave the room, clearly unaware that I had heard and felt every bit of his actions. This act both alighted a fire deep within me and also made me nervous. _Was there a reason he did not want me? Did women usually have to say or do something to initiate desire? Should women even feel desire? I had never felt it before._

I woke up this morning trying to think positive. Surely his behaviour should make me feel more profoundly fortunate than ever. I truly married a gentleman who was so respectful of my mourning for Henry’s state that he would not make me uncomfortable by pushing my boundaries.

And so here I was. Thomas had also insisted I take today off from hospital duty and promised to visit Henry himself and also pick up more of my belongings from my home. I protested of course, but in the end his logic prevailed. The daily visits to Henry were proving testing. I was not sure if he would ever wake and it was draining to think of the consequences. Yesterday I left the hospital in floods of tears, partly as I had so often wished for his death and feeling utterly ashamed of myself for it. Thomas comforted me the best he could until I fell asleep.

Resting as the room grew darker, my eyelids grew heavier and I felt a rising apprehension.

 _Just what did I fear?_ Was this not my happy ending? Sure, I lost belief that much things existed but now I was living through it. I was free from my home, from the duties to Henry and Conrad, from my duties and punishments.

 

_‘Where’s my Joey?’ She called from the far side of the room in her sweetest honey warm tone. I grinned and squeezed my eyes shut, recognising that voice instantly. We would play such silly games so often – before – before things got complicated._

_‘Joey!’ She called again and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud. If she heard me she would find me. ‘Up now lazy bones! Up, up!’_

_‘Joey, come on now. Just wait until I tell the others!’ she said and I could hear the glee in her voice, the jovially tone that indicated to me she knew only too well I was not asleep, just bored and longing to play, to be discovered. ‘Asleep at this hour! I ask of you! I see you, Joey!’_

_I opened my eyes, my blurry vision falling into the farthest corner of the room where she stood, eagerly awaiting a glimpse of her familial features; of her long golden hair falling down in ringlets past her shoulders and breasts. I always loved her hair, so beautiful, thick and golden. Her frame was petite, slightly smaller in stature than myself with a slimmer frame, more delicate facial features and the softest doe like brown eyes. As a child I was envious so envious of her stunning good looks. She looked like Mama did in all of Father’s photographs. Effortlessly beautiful, charming and frequently the object my many local suitors desires Lydia was a beauty to behold. But right now, I saw none of this, only shadow._

_‘Liddy?’ I whispered, my skin staring to prickle uncomfortably as I realised she was entirely cast in shadow, so dark it looked like tar. The angry drone of flies – hundreds of them – seemed to ooze from the corner she stood in._

_I tried to focus on her but in the dim light her beautiful features were twisted. She looked different, her golden long hair was wispy, her frame so trim she looked more skeletal than human, her face sallow and darkening. She cocked her head to the side and something oozed down her porcelain skin and into her high collared dress._

_‘Stop it, Liddy!’ I spat out suddenly, no longer smiling but looking horrified at the rapidly swelling crimson stain on her dress. Was this a new game of hers? A scary one? I did not like it._

_She took no notice but stepped close – or moved. No footsteps sounded on the floor as she approached closer. I swallowed thickly realising she was decomposing before my very eyes. A maggot seemed to burrowing in one of her now empty eye sockets and I shrieked. ‘Stop it Liddy!’ I repeated louder this time._

_She was so close to me now, I could smell rotting flesh, so hideous I feared I would vomit on the spot and the haunting murmurs of hundreds of flies was droning into my skull._

_‘Together they will watch you burn’ she said softly her mouth mere millimetres from mine._

I quickly jerked awake quickly, my body spasming and out of breath. For a moment I forgot where I was and only just collected myself and sat upright in the pitch dark room when the door opened.

‘Josephine, darling it’s – where are you?’ Thomas’ slightly confused voice rang out through our hotel suite.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

 

Thomas’ sudden return back to the hotel had caught me off guard, so much so as he hurried to light each room in our suite, I was still sat out of breath and a little disorientated. I was trying hard to remember my dream, but it was escaping too quickly from me like I were trying to hold fistfuls of sand in my grasp. The harder I tried to pull the dream back into my memory, the quicker it escaped and trickled back into wherever dreams reside when awake – into a deep, dark part of my psyche.

 _Had Lydia been there? I could have sworn it was her – her beautiful hair, I remember seeing that. And we were – what were we doing? Wasn’t there darkness too? She said something about fire … or was it about burning?_ _Wait, was I certain it was even Lydia? It could have been someone else with that colour hair. I could be mistaken. I can barely remember what it was._

‘Or we could go out for something?’ Thomas continued, clearly unaware of my state. I only noticed now that he were soaked through.

Feeling idiotic about self-indulging my dream, I immediately stood up and helped him remove his coat which was so wet it looked as though it would have to be peeled off him. ‘I had no idea it started to rain,’ I said, cheering up as he smiled my way. ‘I fell asleep waiting for you.’

‘Thank you,’ he muttered quietly as my arms reached up around his frame to gently tug at the shoulders of his coat. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was delayed a little. Though I managed to get you a few more items from your house.’ He paused when he realised I was having trouble removing his coat and crouched down slightly. I couldn’t help but let out a slight giggle.

‘You’re too tall,’ I scolded playfully, removing the coat from him completely and setting it out by the stand near the fire.

He let out a low laugh, pushing his wet dark curls from his face. ‘Or you’re too small,’ he answered simply, clearly unperturbed by his damp clothes.

I lifted my eyebrow and gave him a feigned look of hurt as I removed his hat and set it by the stand near the fire. ‘And you’re a bag of bones to boot, Thomas,’ I answered unable to stop the smile creeping from my face. I refused to look him in the eye as I turned away from him. ‘You need to eat more. You’re little more than a skeleton – all sharp and cold angles.’

‘Ah, well there is only one beauty in this marriage. Though your words wound me, darling,’ Thomas answered coyly. ‘Does my wife not think I’m handsome?’

I tried not to laugh as I stopped briefly, my back too him as though considering his words. ‘Very handsome – for a bag of bones.’

I heard his odd laugh from behind. ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce,’ he whispered behind me before catching me around my waist and pulling me back tight against his soaking wet frame. I gasped at the sudden coldness, aware that he was holding me as he had done last night, my back pressed flush against his front but this time it was playful and we both laughed as he kissed my cheek and held me close to him. I made to step away from his embrace but found he held me far too close. I froze slightly, aware that his giddy mood had grew so bold, so quickly. This was not a fleeting touch or glance I had seen over the last few days but a resolute action, a firm sign that he wanted something more. It was not a sleepy, unconscious thing or a questioning stare, no this was him taking charge and as much as I wanted it in my fantasy the sudden rush of reality was slightly overwhelming. I was struck dumb and I went completely still in his grasp.

Fantasy was one thing, reality another. My mouth went dry, yet for all my reservations, Thomas took my still form as an invitation to go further. He used my momentary pause to nuzzle against my neck. My eyes fluttered closed and my breath went slightly ragged. It was nice, his touch, his hold, his hot breath against my neck – _but, but what next? Would I cry during as I had done before when … when…? Was it too soon, married though we were? Would I make him happy? What if this was a mistake?_

Thomas’ hands slid to my hips, his large palms holding me firmly to him, I could hear his own breath by my ear and it sent a weird and unexpected rush of warmth throughout me, radiating from my lower body, from somewhere as yet undiscovered. It didn’t feel like a mistake, no on the contrary it pushed all doubts from my mind. This warmth was nice, it seemed to instinctively tell me I had nothing to fear. I never felt warmth with anyone else. I never tingled at their touch or felt my breath grow ragged in excitement. A slight soft mewling noise spilled from my mouth before I could even stop it in desperate anticipation or need. I felt Thomas’ breath grow louder by my ear, before his lips trailed a path across my neck. One of his hands let go of my hips and slid slowly upwards, snaking towards my breast. His large hand cupped my right breast and I shuddered against him as he gently curled his fingers into the fleshy mound. He groaned slightly as he continued to tease my flesh. Growing bolder, he tugged at the front of my dress, pushing it down to have better access to my breasts. All the while our breathing grew heavier, his still clothed hips grinding against my back, as his lips trailed to the other side of my neck. His delicate fingers now managed to delve into the front of my dress and were expertly tugging at my pert nipples. I whimpered, pressing back against him. This felt nice – amazing even, each touch from him felt as though it trailed sparks at their point of contact, making my skin feel so alive. His hand on my hip now slid across my stomach holding me firmly in place against him. I felt the warmth grow stronger and bolder at the point where our bodies would soon join. It made my knees weak and my head dizzy. Yet for some reason this made me feel ashamed, as though I were not supposed to feel such things and doubts began make themselves known once more. _What if I were behaving wrong? What if I were no good at this intimate side of marriage. What if I let him down?_

I tried to step forward, twisting slightly so that Thomas’ trail of kisses suddenly stopped and I attempted to pull sharply from him. However, I grew painfully aware that his grip was so strong upon my stomach that I could not move away from him. _If he wanted to he could hold me in place – he could do whatever he wanted. He had the brute strength_. This immediately panicked me. Knowing nothing else to do, I went still against him again – the prickling in my eyes telling me I was close to tears and an overwhelming sense of defeat.

‘Stop now,’ I whispered, lightly tugging his hands, painfully aware I was waiting for him to let me go. When he didn’t I felt another rush of panic. ‘Please.’

Thomas immediately let me go when I spoke. ‘Josephine?’ he asked, his voice cautious as I stepped forward, fixing the front of my dress and tried not to give in to tears. The atmosphere changed from playfulness to trepidation. I had ruined the moment.

I cleared my throat. ‘You should go take a bath – you’ll catch your death lingering in those wet clothes,’ I answered, my voice a forced steady calm. ‘And have you eaten? I had dinner earlier sent up but I’m sure they could send up another. You really ought to eat you know,’ I babbled on very much aware I was desperately trying to deflect what had just happened. When Thomas didn’t answer I continued on in vain. ‘Seriously Thomas, you should go and change out of those wet things. You could get very ill.’

‘Josephine?’ Thomas repeated from behind me. ‘Something happened you just now. Did you remember something – about the asylum?’

I didn’t answer him. All I could do was focus on breathing.

‘We can talk about it, Josephine,’ Thomas said, his voice ever so soft like he were approaching a wounded animal. If anything this made me feel worse – tainted or damaged by my past. ‘Just look at me, darling please?’

I was aware my bottom lip was quivering now. I was desperately confused by my own desire and feeling ashamed and scared to be with another man. Thomas’ sheer strength was a reminder of the past – of being held down. ‘How’s Henry?’ I asked, feeling embarrassed now by my weakening attempts to change the subject. _Let’s talk of something else. Please._

‘He’s very much the same,’ Thomas answered calmly. ‘Now, please stop avoiding the issue. Look at me.’

Swallowing I faced Thomas slowly. I kept my stare pitifully on the floor but sniffled pitifully. For a few seconds there was silence, until finally, I felt Thomas slightly lift my chin up with his hand. My bottom lip still shook, threatening to dissolve into tears at any second. ‘Oh darling,’ he whispered and in one swift movement, both his arms were encircling me, drawing me closer to his cold, damp body yet I never felt such warmth. He soothingly rubbed my back, kissing the top of my head tenderly and holding me so tight against him, I could feel my own body’s warmth encase his colder one. ‘I pushed you too much, didn’t I?’ he whispered, lightly squeezing my frame. ‘I thought it might be good for us to try for more. I’m so sorry.’

I shook my head, desperately trying to explain all my confused fears and desires. ‘Please, don’t apologise, Thomas. It’s not your fault. I want – I want more too … ’ I deeply inhaled aware I was finding comfort in his hold, a sense of strength, or security I never remember having before.

‘Why - why is that a problem?’ Thomas asked, his tone still soft and gentle. He lightly brushing my cheek with his thumb once more.

‘Sometimes, I doubt if …’ I whispered, somehow surprised I was willing to say this out loud at all. I closed my eyes as he continued to stroke my cheek. ‘I'm scared because there’s so many doubts in my mind. Will I please you? Will you desire me? Will I let you down? It feels too much.’

‘That’s exactly how I feel too,’ Thomas answered simply, one arm now lightly rubbing my lower back. ‘It happens early in all marriages from what I can gather. Yet I want – I would like for us to try to be intimate. Over the last few days, I thought I saw a flicker of desire in your eyes – like you want something to happen. Other times, you seem scared to. I know I live such a sheltered life away from mainstream society with Lucille, that in your eyes, I may be a disappointment to you. Is that it? Is it me that makes you uneasy?’

‘Oh Thomas,’ I looked into his blue eyes and found that strange honest vulnerability – that simple unyielding earnest glance that made it impossible for me to look away. ‘No, it’s not you. Please don’t think that. You could never disappoint me. But I’m not normal. I’ve never wanted another man before. I don’t know how to … act on these impulses. You seem confident and in control and I -’

‘If anyone is a novice here it is I. You were engaged once, Josephine,’ Thomas interrupted, his voice suddenly adopting a cool edge that made me look up into his eyes once more. His eyes narrowed as though he were on the verge of losing his temper or severely annoyed. This response was not what I expected to hear. ‘And you were pregnant once too. Therefore you have experience, so I don’t get why you allow us to get close like just now and then push me away. It's teasing. I mean, please excuse me if I don’t see you as a blushing virgin when taking you on our marriage bed.’

I felt as though the ground beneath my feet had slipped away at Thomas’ blunt and angry confession. I could only look at him, my eyes wide, my mouth slightly open and felt my heart tighten in my chest. _So this truly explains his undecided behaviour the past few days._ This was why he only gave lingering stares or shy touches. He felt inadequate – inexperienced or jealous, of me, of my past. He wanted to be the first to have me. He also wanted intimacy to the point of frustration. Now this frustration was solely placed on me - the must-be tease. My gaze faltered, before I forced myself to look at him in confusion. 'Teasing?' I repeated in a quiet whisper, not sure I had heard him correctly.

_Had he truly concocted visions of me in heated ecstasy with unknown lovers? Or perhaps throwing a marvellous and grand party in a ballroom celebrating my engagement with family and friends? Had he also imagined me ecstatically pregnant, knitting tiny booties or fondly patting the growing bump in heart-warming, eager anticipation of a little bundle of joy?_

‘You’re a damn fool,’ I spat out suddenly with such venom I surprised even myself. It was as though something snapped deep with me and I pushed him with all my might whilst looking at him in disgust.

His blue orbs widened almost comically at this. ‘What?’ he asked, his voice shaking slightly, as he slightly stumbled back. No doubt he was more caught off guard by my sudden hostility than by my sudden strength. 

‘Do you honestly think so little of me?’ I queried, my voice shaking with rage. ‘Is it the male ego talking for you, or, is it your damn pride? Tell me, is my past too much for you to handle, are you getting cold feet now? That you somehow thought it would be smooth sailing in the sex department once we married – that you would heal all my past wounds? Or is it that you wanted to take my virginity is that it? Are you disappointed someone else got there before you - ’

‘No, Josephine,’ Thomas answered quickly, though he looked slightly panicked now, like this conversation had taken a direction he was not expecting. ‘I would never - ’

‘That's what you said just now – you’re pissed I’m not a virgin when you eventually get to “take me”,’ I spat out in disgust, stepping further back as he stepped towards me. ‘I thought you were different from them.’

‘I am!’ Thomas barked, sounding slightly maddened now himself. ‘I would never hurt you - ever! You had a fiancé, you were to be wed before and you carried another man’s child, Josephine! Yet you never talk of it. I’m trying to understand you is all. From your sense of fear just a moment ago, which came out of the blue when we were _finally_   getting close, you would think you never had sex before!’

My head cocked to the side as I listened to Thomas speak. When he was done I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them Thomas had stepped closer to me again. Perhaps he thought I was faint, for when I opened my eyes he looked deeply concerned. ‘After everything you know,’ I said quietly, trying desperately not to get lost in my past – in the anger and hate and utter devastation of these memories Thomas was so insensitively poking at. ‘After everything you’ve witnessed between Henry, Dr. Conrad and I – do you honestly think I was _happily_ engaged and pregnant?’

‘I – well, maybe not happily,’ Thomas answered, yet he looked scared to move now as though a sudden movement might have me scattering for the door. ‘I – I assumed you were young, perhaps too young. An arranged marriage maybe? But experienced nevertheless with sex – you were pregnant for god’s sake! You’ve therefore been involved with a man - ’

I shook my head, a twisted smile on my lips. 'Guess again, _dearest_ husband mine.'

‘With – with more than one man?’ he asked, his voice rising slightly. _Was I imagining it or was there disgust in those blue eyes now – a slight inward repulsive glare that had not been there before?_

‘You know what, Thomas?’ I asked my voice rising in white hot anger. ‘To hell with you! Yes there was more than one. But this wouldn’t even be an issue if it was the other way around – if you confessed you had other lovers this wouldn’t matter at all! I would be expected to just accept and not question it as your wife - ’

‘This isn’t a gender issue,‘ Thomas snapped snidely.

‘The Hell it is!’ I barked back, feeling my limbs tremble with rage. He seemed to be shocked by my reaction, he raised his arms as though considering to coddle me again, perhaps to calm me down, but one venomous stare made him take a step back. ‘The only reason we’re having this fight is because I told you to stop as things got heated between us. You assume I’m so experienced because Conrad told you I was engaged and pregnant and you – you believe him without even asking me about it – all of it. Six days we’ve been alone now – six and you didn’t ask me a goddamn thing. Yes Thomas, I was once engaged, and I was pregnant – neither were the result of consensual actions.’ I snarled suddenly pushing him roughly as he made to coddle me once more.

He took a step back, his eyes registering shock, hurt, even pity but that made me madder still. Thomas’ eye widened at this, his blue stare once more so vulnerable. He seemed to finally comprehend somewhat as to why I was so terrified of opening up to him and being intimate. ‘You were – you were…’

‘Don’t!’ I snarled, raising one hand firmly up to show I wanted no sympathy from him. ‘Don’t you dare try and pity me now. Just don’t tell me this isn’t a fucking gender issue. It all stems from your frustration and your inability to obey the word no. You’re a spoiled brat!’

‘Josephine, please,’ Thomas whispered, his eyebrows now knotted and eyes rapidly filling. ‘We can talk about this! I didn’t know you were forced to that extent with things  – I only meant you had experience - ’

‘EXPERIENCE?’ I shrieked up at him. ‘Why do you keep calling it that? I lay there and took it – sometimes held down - over and over and over and over,’ I continued, now suddenly slapping his chest repeatedly with my bare fists with each word. He made no attempt to stop me or hush me. ‘Now you know just how fucking experienced I am. Does that sound pleasurable to you – like I learned a trick or two? I felt no pleasure doing anything in that period of my life. My fiancé was a monster. And when I found out I was pregnant - yes, by _another_ man - I wasn't radiant or jubilant, I was fucking scared. I’m still scared now – of this, of us being intimate. What if it goes wrong or if it hurts?’ I paused and took another deep breath, my arms finally falling by my side as I had suddenly blurted out the real reason for my fear, my panicked deep seated dread to be intimate with Thomas. ‘Are you fucking happy now, Mr. Sharpe?’ I whispered as an angry tear rolled down my cheek. Thomas eyes overfilled as he held my stare, unflinching yet clearly devastated by everything he just heard. I watched the tears leave track marks on his cheeks. ‘Are you happy to know Conrad was right – you married a lunatic and a whore!’ My eyes were so full of angry hate and tears and simply glared at him before turning my back on him. ‘If you can’t understand why I might be somewhat hesitant to lay with another man now, then there’s no point telling you the rest.'

'Josephine, please,' Thomas said. His voice sounding oddly cracked, like he was overcome by tears now. 'I'm sorry ... I - I didn't know. Please, just - '

'No,' I answered resolutely, unwilling to look at his no doubt beautiful teared up angelic features. 'Just forget this. Forget us. Just leave, Thomas. Get out of my life and stay the hell away. We're done.’

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

 

**_Thomas’ POV_ **

 

‘This isn’t a gender issue,‘ I snapped snidely, annoyed she seemed to spring this as her defence.

‘The Hell it is!’ she barked back, her face turning red with rage.

I couldn’t help but looked shocked now. Her temperament seemed to be growing ever livid. Feeling slightly guilty, I raised my arms as though to embrace her and hopefully calm her down. However, the look on her face seemed to suggest if I laid so much as a finger on her I risked losing it. Immediately recognising this, I took a step back.

‘The only reason we’re having this fight is because I told you to stop as things got heated between us,’ she continued hotly. ‘You assume I’m so experienced because Conrad told you I was engaged and pregnant and you – you believe him without even asking me about it – all of it. Six days we’ve been alone now – six and you didn’t ask me a goddamn thing. Yes Thomas, I was once engaged, and I was pregnant – neither were the result of consensual actions.’

My heart seemed to stop beating. _There it was._

_There was the cold, raw truth._

_This is why she was scared to be honest or intimate. She was forced to … my wife had been raped. I had assumed assault but not to this extent._

I stepped towards her again to hug her and soothe her, and calm my own spiralling emotions. I needed her touch to keep me grounded. I was not used to dealing with things alone. However, Josephine forcefully pushed me away. I found my mind blindly scrambling to put what happened to her into physical words, but I could not think straight. ‘You were – you were…’

‘Don’t!’ she snarled, raising one hands to clearly show she wanted no pity from me. ‘Don’t you dare try and pity me now. Just don’t tell me this isn’t a fucking gender issue. It all stems from your frustration and your inability to obey the word no. You’re a spoiled brat!’

_Right now, I agreed with her. Truthfully I had only meant to rattle her from her withdrawn nature. I had deliberately expressed my frustrations in the crudest way possible to shake her from her silence which had been so unbearable the last six days. We weren’t behaving like newlyweds at all. We were far too civil to one another, formal almost, ignoring the elephant in the room that was Dr. Conrad’s final words of Josephine’s past. We spent all of our time usually in the company of each other yet we spoke like we were in the early stages of courtship. I grew frustrated by her behaviour, for one moment we were enjoying pleasant conversation or even on the cusp of a promising sexual encounter, yet the very next she would fall silent, sometimes for hours. She refused to enter in-depth discussions of her past, always finding excuses which varied immensely; she was worried about Henry, it was too painful to discuss whilst he was in hospital, she needed to eat, she needed fresh air, she needed to bathe. I had married The Ice Queen of Deflection. I thoroughly wanted to understand what had her so frightened, so scared even now when she was away from Henry and Dr. Conrad. Unfortunately, I pushed too far and it backfired on me. Now it was escalating out of control, Josephine was irate._

I reached for her once more, so desperate was I to hold her, embrace her, apologise - anything to show her kindness, but she pushed me away again, looking livid that I even dared to consider hugging her.

‘Josephine, please,’ I begged in a whisper. I was finding it hard to fully talk at all. I thought of Lucille. _She always helped me cope with bad news. I didn’t know what to say here._ My eyes were rapidly filling. ‘We can talk about this! I didn’t know you were forced to that extent with things – I only meant you had experience - ’

‘EXPERIENCE?’ she shrieked, looking thoroughly deranged now. I seemed to be repeatedly saying the wrong thing. ‘Why do you keep calling it that? I lay there and took it – sometimes held down - over and over and over and over,’ she continued, suddenly slapping against my chest repeatedly with her bare fists to emphasise each word. I took each hit, I made no attempt to stop or hush her. Each word was another scar upon my heart or an open wound. I could barely breathe. ‘Now you know just how fucking experienced I am,’ she continued. Does that sound pleasurable to you – like I learned a trick or two? I felt no pleasure doing anything in that period of my life. My fiancé was a monster. And when I found out I was pregnant - yes, by  _another_  man - I wasn't radiant or jubilant, I was fucking scared. I’m still scared now – of this, of us being intimate. What if it goes wrong or if it hurts?’ she paused, taking a deep shaking breathe. It was at this point I noticed her body was trembling. Her arms finally fell by her side and she suddenly looked terrified by what she had admitted as though it was the first time she understood herself what was going on in her mind. ‘Are you fucking happy now, Mr. Sharpe?’ she whispered up to me as a tear fell from her beautiful, sad green eyes. I could only hold myself together before her, be the strength she needed but my tears were threatening to fall at any second. I tried to hold her stare, desperately trying to instil in her that I was not about to run, that I would remain here with her. Finally my eyes overfilled, I could not stop the tears that escaped them. ‘Are you happy to know Conrad was right – you married a lunatic and a whore!’

 _She was held down during sex? That’s why she panicked earlier,_ my mind sluggishly realised _. I held her too close to my body using a great deal of strength. She felt trapped and it must have triggered a memory._

_My heart felt like it was breaking, I couldn’t take any more. I had guessed she had been forced to marry – most single women who found themselves suddenly expecting usually had little choice in the matter. Yet I did not know her fiancé was a bad man, or at least, I blindly hoped he had not been. For hadn’t he accepted her when she was pregnant with another man’s child? Did he know of it, or worse yet, did he even stand by her? They had only been engaged, not married after all. Did he dump her once he discovered her pregnancy? And she was scared to be pregnant too. Josephine never spoke of her pregnancy, which made me think over the last few days that it had not gone smoothly, that she had lost the child, either before or after its birth. I had also blindly hoped there had been someone there to help her through the pregnancy or the loss of her child. Doesn’t everyone deserve that – to have another human being comfort them when they lose their little one? Where was the father in all of this? After all, she was forced to carry his child. She implied she had been involved with more than one man too – but just how many were there? As for Henry and Conrad? The bastards! I know they played a role in this. Did they ship her off to the asylum when she was pregnant under the claims of hysteria? Oh I would make them pay … But right now, I had so many questions. Her history was far darker than I ever imagined – dark as the Sharpe family history. What pain had she been forced to suffer through alone? I could barely bear to hear it, how did she endure it? How could I ever have been jealous of her past? Of the father of her child? Of her so called lover I had imagined as taking her ecstatically? Of her actual pregnancy that I had not caused nor witnessed? No there was no pleasurable love making, or ecstatic couple expecting their first child. There was only Josephine, enduring these things all the while alone._

I was crying openly, unable to speak or stop the tears falling. I felt so ashamed. _I had done this, made her share the horrors she so desperately wanted to forget. And why? Just to satisfy my curiosity. What could I say or do to make this better for her? How do I help? Could I?_

For a moment her gaze softened as she studied my features. Mild surprise entered her stare as though she had not expected my empathic reaction. However, no sooner this happened than an anger returned to her eyes and she turned her back on me again. ‘If you can’t understand why I might be somewhat hesitant to lay with another man now, then there’s no point telling you the rest.'

'Josephine, please,' I begged aware my voice was shaking and betraying my emotions. 'I'm sorry ... I - I didn't know. Please, just - '

'No,' she answered resolutely, unwilling to look at me as she spoke. 'Just forget this. Forget us. Just leave, Thomas. Get out of my life and stay the hell away. We're done. **’**

Silence fell between us, but the floor might have well opened up and left a deep dark chasm between us. But for a fleeting second my grief abated and I felt shamefully relieved.

_I could leave right now. I could go out that hotel door and forget I ever heard such a sorrowful past from Josephine. It was too much. I did not know how to even begin helping her recover from it. Was it even possible to recover from that much horror? Lucille would be happy and possibly relieved. As Josephine’s husband, I had rights to her full financial assets now anyway. I could find a lawyer and have everything transferred to my name, with or without Josephine’s permission. Lucille would be so pleased to hear this. Our finances would be finally sufficient and my clay mine would have enough funding to begin extensive retrieval of clay with the purchase of items specifically created for my newest invention. Allerdale Hall would be restored to its former glory._

_But did I want that? The last six days had not been all bad. Josephine had expressed in other ways the type of person she was. She would discuss literature for hours, undeniably with a happy confident air. This indicated to me she was intelligent and privileged, but nevertheless a rational young woman. She was passionate too largely about gender issues, equality and animals. This further indicated she was fair and kind-hearted, but also bold and strong. She had showed me around her favourite parts of London, taking me to parks where we spent hours, sitting and watching the world go by. From this I learned she loved the outdoors. Music too, was a love of hers. She had been in attendance at various orchestra’s growing up and also loved to attend theatre too. I learned she played the harp amongst other instruments. So she was worldly and talented too. Overall, she was passionate, charming, intelligent, witty and deeply sincere. When she spoke in these moments, I felt my heart warm with pride. My wife was special indeed and I grew hopelessly defenceless to her charm._

_Yet this was only half the time. The other time she was silent, withdrawn, her eyes cast over in shadows from her past. Her behaviour frustrated me. Two minds seem to reside within her, two bodies with separate ranges of emotions and I feared two souls did as well. Who did I marry?_

‘Thomas,’ she said, more quietly now. I paused in my musings to look up at her. Her back was still to me, she sounded distant but calm as though resigned to this turn of events, as though she expected no other outcome had been possible. ‘You should go now. We aren’t working. I was a fool to think I could lead a normal life. I’ve wasted your time and played with your emotions. For this I am sorry. I’ll be sure you get substantial support - enough to cover your mining efforts in the north. I won’t bother you again. We can stay married, separate, or you can declare I am mentally unstable and divorce me. Dr. Conrad will help you there, I’m sure. ’

Her tone was calmer, yet I was willing to bet she was crying silently. This statement took me completely off guard.

 _She was not causing a scene, even though after everything she just shared she had the right to. She wasn’t even willing to show her tears to evoke my pity. She was not vengeful, spiteful or being unreasonable. No, she was telling me to leave and still willing to look after me._ _My wife might be two minds, two bodies, possibly even two souls but she had one heart._ _One kind, gentle and warm heart that despite all of its sufferings and pain still beat strongly within her. This was why I had been drawn to her from when we met, wasn’t it? This is why I could not leave, this is why I wanted and needed her by my side. In the utmost of despair she was still  choosing to be kind._

Up until this moment, I saw Josephine as being quite similar to Lucille. However, now I realised that whilst she may have shared similar experiences to Lucille, they dealt with it in extraordinarily different ways. She was a proof that a hard life didn’t make a hard person. Josephine was still good, pure and warm of heart.

Clearing my throat I tentatively crossed the gaping chasm between us, hoping I would not take the plunge alone. ‘No,’ I answered defiantly.

There was another pause.

‘Ex – erm, excuse me?’ Josephine asked, her voice still distant but with an edge of confusion.

‘I said no,’ I repeated, stepping closer to her. ‘We have to try, Josephine. We can’t simply walk away now after only giving us six days. Do you love me?’

I watched her body become stiff, her shoulders suddenly upright, yet held tight. She looked, from this angle, like a life-size porcelain doll. But she was more than such a fragile thing as this - so much more. ‘Thomas I - ’ she began quietly.

‘No, Josephine,’ I interrupted gently, my breath ghosting across the back of her neck. I raised my hand and very gently placed it on her shoulder. I felt that her body was indeed poised as tight as a bow. I gentle squeezed her shoulder letting her know I meant no harm. She did not shake off my hand or snap at me. Instead, I heard her give a low sigh. ‘No more deflections,’ I continued. ‘I know it’s hard for you, but you must try now. Do it not for me, but for yourself. All those years in secrets and darkness. It’s time past habits were broken, don’t you think? But only you can do that. Break the habit, darling. I’ll ask one more time. Do you love me?’

There was another round of silence. Minutes trickled by – or what felt like minutes and Josephine was silent. I closed my eyes and felt a pang of deepest hurt – she was going to say no but knowing Josephine she was thinking of a nice way to do so. I was just about to take my hand from her shoulder when I felt her warm touch. Her slight hand clasped mine with surprising toughness – almost an urgency.

My eyes opened as she said the most uplifting words I had ever heard another human being say to me. ‘I love you, Thomas.’

I smiled as she turned to face me. She looked a little surprised by her honesty, no doubt it was a relatively new and hard experience for her but she otherwise looked sincere. I continued to stare at her for several seconds before answering. ‘I love you, Josephine,’ I responded before lowering down and pressing my lips softly to hers. Very gently she leaned into the kiss. I kept it soft and slow, demanding nothing more from her, not now, not until she told me she was ready. I paused to look at her, clasping her face so gently in my hands. ‘Do you want to try here with us? Try to give this marriage a real chance?’

She nodded once and I kissed her forehead, my arms finally wrapping around her and holding her – not too tight though. She smiled a little shyly aware of my efforts, ‘You can hug me tight as you always have done, Thomas,’ she said sounding like her usual self again. ‘I won’t break.’

I couldn’t help but blush softly. ‘I just don’t ever want to push you too far again.’

‘You might,’ she said, causing me to look at her in confusion. ‘I can’t promise I’ll be cured of my past, or that I will share everything with you tonight, tomorrow or even a month from now. But in time, I will. I’ve grown accustomed to keeping things to myself – it’s my way of coping. I will try to change, but I need your patience, please don’t rush me ’

‘I won’t,’ I vowed, looking in her eyes to let her know I meant it.

‘In return, you can share things with me,’ she continued, an affirmative smile on her face. ‘Anything at all about your past, or your present. I promise I’ll always stand by your side.’

For a moment I paused, my heart seemed to momentarily pause too. I swallowed thickly and tried to pass this off as a moment of being deeply moved by her words. ‘Thank you.’

I leaned down to kiss her once more, as softly as I had done a moment ago. However, Josephine was kissing me harder now, a sense of urgency in her approach. She pushed her body closer to mine, her skin now slightly flushed as though it was itself thrown by her sudden boldness. Her close proximity caused my body to show signs of responding, but terrified to push her a second time in one night I stepped back, stopping the kiss. ‘Josephine I - ’

‘I want to Thomas,’ she responded as though reading my mind. ‘I really do. I’m scared, but I trust you.’

‘But Josephine,’ I continued. ‘Are you sure it’s not too soon? I can wait. I don’t want to rush you, especially if you’re still scared.’

Josephine smiled a little coyly up at me. She gently pressed a kiss to my lips before answering. ‘I will always be scared the first time we do this Thomas,’ she answered assuredly. ‘But I want this to happen too. And once we start, all my fears will surely vanish. You make me want to be with you. Something happens that I never felt before when we are trying to get close – even when we kiss. It makes me feel warm,’ she blushed darkly. ‘I trust you. Can we at least try?’

I lightly twisted a loose strand of Josephine’s hair before smiling lovingly down at her. ‘I’d like that.’

 

 

 

 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that this chapter contains a sex scene. So, if that's not your thing you may want to give this chapter a miss.
> 
> Also, this chapter may be the last update for the next two-three weeks. I will update as soon as I can though, I promise. For now, I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter! xx

Chapter Nineteen

 

**_Josephine’s POV_ **

****

He had angered me so much. He had made me relive my past, recall the men and remember my pregnancy. I did not want to remember. Some things were best left buried.

But Thomas kept pushing me, kept saying the wrong thing to me which only further fuelled my rage. I was beside myself, the frustration and confusion that had been pent up for so long was now being so insensitively prodded that I finally peaked and gave in to my anger. I told him to go, or more accurately, I snapped at him to leave, turning away so that I wouldn’t have to look at his beautiful blue eyes which could sway my determined resolve. For how dare he push me like this?

_How dare he make me remember?_

Seconds trickled by. I expected to hear a frustrated sigh, retreating footsteps and the slam of a door. Soon minutes went by without a sound. Doubts entered my mind and I began to feel guilty.  _Perhaps I had been too hard on him?_

My anger had been so sudden and brutal. I raised my hands to Thomas, I swore at him, I bloody screamed at him, but he had not fought back, nor struck me. Thomas let my anger wash over him, he accepted what I said and by the time I had finished, the pain in his eyes echoed my own pain.

Then I realised he had not pushed me, but pushed himself to discover truths about my past. I drove him to this for I kept changing my mind, my actions and my speech over the last six days and he let it pass each time without expressing how it made him feel. But it was proving too much, he had grown too annoyed, too frustrated and repressed. Now that I understood this, I did not blame him. He needed an explanation for my erratic behaviour. It was not his fault that this explanation was too dark. I had been so fixated on not reliving my own past, I did not think to remember how repressing it would affect Thomas. Now that he knew the extent of it, I had shocked him into silence.

‘Thomas,’ I said more quietly, breaking the silence between us. I knew what needed to be done. I could not expect him to stay with me now out of honour or duty. _I was a freak. I was damaged. I was beyond the hope of love. I had been silly to think otherwise._ ‘You should go now. We aren’t working. I was a fool to think I could lead a normal life. I’ve wasted your time and played with your emotions. For this I am sorry. I’ll be sure you get substantial support - enough to cover your mining efforts in the north. I won’t bother you again. We can stay married, separate, or you can declare I am mentally unstable and divorce me. Dr. Conrad will help you there, I’m sure.’

More silence followed. I still expected to hear retreating footsteps and the slam of a door once more. What I did not expect was Thomas’ delayed response. ‘No,’ he answered defiantly.

‘Ex – erm, excuse me?’ I asked, sure I had misheard him.

‘I said no,’ he repeated. I heard him step closer to me. For a fleeting second I expected him to strike me from behind, or request extra money before he left. ‘We have to try, Josephine. We can’t simply walk away now after only giving us six days. Do you love me?’

I did not expect this. _Why was he staying? I was setting him free. Was this a trick?_ My body became stiff and bolt upright. ‘Thomas I - ’ I started to explain.

‘No, Josephine,’ he interrupted in a gentle tone. I felt his breath ghosting across the back of my neck, followed by the placement of one of his warm hands on my shoulder. His touch confused me, scared me and yet, I desired it greatly. I let out a breathy sigh. ‘No more deflections,’ he continued. ‘I know it’s hard for you, but you must try now. Do it not for me, but for yourself. All those years in secrets and darkness. It’s time past habits were broken, don’t you think? But only you can do that. Break the habit, darling. I’ll ask one more time. Do you love me?’

My mind turned over his words as my heart beat furiously.

_He knew I was deflecting again. He knew I found frankness hard. Yet he was challenging me to be sincere and honest, not for his own benefit, but for mine. “All those years in secrets and darkness. It’s time past habits were broken, don’t you think?” Thomas seemed to understand now, my past was turbulent indeed. But could I change? For so long, I had been the property of someone else. I had felt pain, loss, sorrow and fear, but Thomas was a promise of something new – of a life away from London and a move to Allerdale Hall where I surely would be safe. I wanted to change. I could try. Once I worked out what all of his statement meant, it was only too easy to answer him honestly._

Assuredly I finally responded ‘I love you, Thomas.’ I turned to face him, a little unsure what to do next.

Thomas looked truly joyful, his youthful features radiant and so very different from his horrified reaction earlier. ‘I love you, Josephine,’ he responded before lowering down and pressing his lips to mine, searching for nothing more than a soft kiss. He eventually paused to look at me, clasping my face so gently in his hands and in this moment I truly felt like the most precious thing in the world to him. _How strange I felt like that to anyone?_ ‘Do you want to try here with us? Try to give this marriage a real chance?’

I nodded, feeling more sure by the second that I wanted – no, that I needed Thomas. I was sure I would never need anyone, but now I knew better. Now I knew I needed his love and his alone. He kissed my forehead, his arms wrapping around me ever so gently.

I smiled up a little tentatively at him. ‘You can hug me tight as you always have done, Thomas,’ I said sounding slightly amused. ‘I won’t break.’

Thomas looked embarrassed, a delicate rosy hue broke across his pale cheeks. ‘I just don’t ever want to push you too far again.’

‘You might,’ I responded honestly, figuring that now was a good a time as any to start attempting to be more honest and open with him. ‘I can’t promise I’ll be cured of my past, or that I will share everything with you tonight, tomorrow or even a month from now. But in time, I will. I’ve grown accustomed to keeping things to myself – it’s my way of coping. I will try to change, but I need your patience, please don’t rush me ’

‘I won’t,’ he vowed solemnly, looking in my eyes.

‘In return, you can share things with me,’ I continued, a smile appearing more openly on my face. ‘Anything at all about your past, or your present. I promise I’ll always stand by your side.’

For a moment Thomas seemed too touched by my words to even reply. ‘Thank you,’ he eventually answered before leaning down to kiss me once more. Desperate to show Thomas I was ready to try harder at our marriage, I kissed him with more urgency and pressed my body against his. However, Thomas stepped back, stopping the kiss. ‘Josephine I - ’

‘I want to Thomas,’ I responded before he could doubt my actions. ‘I really do. I’m scared, but I trust you.’

‘But Josephine,’ he continued. ‘Are you sure it’s not too soon? I can wait. I don’t want to rush you, especially if you’re still scared.’

Touched by his kindness I gently pressed a kiss to his lips before answering. ‘I will always be scared the first time we do this Thomas. But I want this to happen too. And once we start, all my fears will surely vanish. You make me want to be with you. Something happens that I never felt before when we are trying to get close – even when we kiss. It makes me feel warm,’ I paused as I felt myself blush darkly at my own honesty. ‘I trust you. Can we at least try?’

Thomas twisted a loose strand of my hair before smiling warmly down at me. ‘I’d like that.’

I clasped his hand as Thomas guided us to the bedroom just off our suite’s living room. The bedroom had a merry fire crackling away in the grate which cast a warm glow across the room. I swallowed thickly as he led me to the bed aware my heart was racing from fear and from excitement.

‘We’ll go slow,’ he promised as he sat down at the edge of the bed.

 _Was it too soon, too sudden or was now a good a time as any? I had to prove I trusted him, didn’t I?_ He was so good, so patient that I desperately wanted to please him. I sat down beside him aware my mouth was immensely dry all of a sudden. ‘I’m nervous,’ I confessed smiling both at the simplicity of what I just said and by the fact that I chose to say it out loud at all.

Thomas cupped my chin and gently turned my head so that I was looking straight into his blue eyes, which sparked with excitement and slight disbelief. ‘Me too,’ he answered simply. We both laughed shyly, a little awkwardly. Yet I felt better now too knowing Thomas felt the same.

He brushed my cheek with his thumb. ‘We will just take things slow. You have all the power here, darling. Say stop, at any point, and we will.’

I nodded once more, leaning in to kiss him, aware of nothing other than his wonderful scent of a cold winter’s day blended with the aroma of an open log fire. I found it so soothing.

 _This was Thomas, my friend, my husband, and now my lover. He would never hurt me._ _He had the chance to leave with but he chose to stay by my side. How blessed was I to not have driven him away? He was trying so hard with me and I needed to do the same. I needed to be as good a wife as he was a husband._

The kiss was nothing like what we shared before. From the moment our lips touched it was more intense, more exciting, more nervous and desperate. Desperate for a taste of each other and from the comfort this brought. Thomas’ breath was heavy, his tongue darting out and skimming my bottom lip. I sighed, his breath so sweet and hot that it sent a rush of warmth throughout me once more. His hands tugged my hips gently and following nothing but my own instinctual sense of what to do, I shifted so that I was sitting in his lap. He pushed up my skirts so I could sit more comfortably on him, either of my legs bracketing his waist. For a moment, I became shy, the thought of him feeling the warmth that radiated from between my legs was somehow embarrassing – it had never happened before. However, Thomas seemed to like it, groaning deeply as I settled against his crotch. I grinned, slightly proud I was causing him to make such a noise and that’s when he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I had one hand on his chest, the other running through his hair. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck, the other was on my lower back, holding me in place. His hips twitched forward against me, the action grazing his own clothed erection against my core as his lips locked tighter against mine, our tongues dancing slowly, his breath so heavy it sent blood rushing to my head. I whimpered from the multiple sensations. This was intoxicating and dizzying. I could feel one of his hands slip up from my waist to the front of my dress.

He paused kissing me, pulling away so suddenly I grimaced at the sudden halt. I looked at his flushed porcelain skin, his dark curls tossed. He looked a little dazed and lost for words.

I was suddenly nervous again. ‘What is it?’ I whispered, fearing I had done something wrong.

‘May I?’ he asked, his fingers hesitating over the top button of my dress.

I swallowed thickly, a prickly of fear rising up from stomach once again. ‘Can – could you take off your clothes first?’ I asked, aware my voice was breathier than usual. I didn’t even know why I wanted him to do this first, I just felt I needed him to. It would be a comfort to me, a reminder that I was not being coerced into this but had a say, had control.

Briefly Thomas looked concerned by whatever he saw on my features, but then he smiled. ‘Of course. Would my wife like to help?’

My hand was shaking slightly but Thomas gripped it tightly and pressed his lips against it. ‘Nice and slow, Josephine,’ he whispered encouragingly. ‘Just take a deep breath, darling.’ I smiled feeling more reassured and began to remove his suit jacket, followed by his shirt. He gently shifted me from his lap and stood up-right to remove his shoes, socks and pants. I was surprised by how nervous he seemed, checking my reaction frequently as he undressed, perhaps he expected me to panic but I was fully intrigued as he stripped before me. Or perhaps he was nervous like I was. As I stared at him, I was tempted to laugh out loud, _why on earth would he be nervous? His body was utterly perfect._

He had porcelain white skin and though thin he was not skinny, as I usually reprimanded him for. His muscles were sharp, lean and glaringly apparent when naked. I found myself wondering what physical work he possibly did to give him such a physique. He was lithe, his body so agile that I was reminded of a cat. I was surprised to see some slight remains of scars, small silver or faded pink marks that seemed to be long since healed _. So Thomas had once known the brute force of a cane or whip too?_ He looked far stronger than I ever expected him to be and utterly enchanting. My eyes were drawn to his stomach, it was flat yet the finest trail of dark hair was visible and disappeared into his drawers which I realised had a discernible bulge – a clear sign he was eager for more.

‘Am I to take it you like the view?’ Thomas asked, his head cocked to the side as he judged my reaction. I blushed when I realised I had been ogling him in silence for at least a minute.

‘You’re beautiful,’ I whispered, blushing again at the lameness of my own words. This was all new. Thomas was taking his time, letting me know there would be no rush or force. I felt inexperienced, almost mortifyingly so considering my past.

However Thomas merely laughed. ‘So are you Mrs Sharpe,’ he said, though he was blushing now too. ‘Though I dare say you are even more so when naked’ he added, a cheeky grin emerging on his face.

I patted the bed with a coy smile and he joined me there once more. He started to kiss me again, this time wasting no time in slipping his tongue into the kiss, yet he kept it slow. I realised he was distracting me, very slowly running his hand across my back, by my bare neck and finally into my hair which was pulled into an updo. All of these touches were simple but left my skin prickling in goose bumps, leaving me longing for more. With surprising swiftness and expertise Thomas managed to unpin my hair, scattering the pins quickly aside so that my dark red locks soon fell about my face in thick waves. He paused again, this time, looking at my hair cascading down my shoulders. ‘Beautiful,’ he repeated, lightly twisting a strand once more. ‘I never told you but I always found red hair so alluring.’

I blushed softly, finding myself lost for words. I was crippled by shyness but Thomas seemed to understand my quietness. He began to undo the front of my dress and feeling brave, I helped him so that he could focus on undoing my skirt until between us I manoeuvred the entire dress off me. Finally I was left in my corset and underwear before him. Once again I felt uneasy now, niggling doubts about what was coming starting to counteract my desire.

‘Slowly Josephine,’ Thomas said softly. I realised my eyes had closed. I opened them as Thomas softly stroking my hair with a concerned look on his face. ‘Are you sure of this?’

I tried to grin but instead a weak smile appeared on my face. ‘Yes. Could you unlace my corset?’ I asked, quickly standing up and turning my back on him.

He did not answer but instead I heard him step from the bed. He brushed my hair across my shoulder and slowly unlaced my corset so I could pull it off. I usually kept my corsets loose hating the constricting feeling of them, so thankfully it was off quickly. Rather than turning around right away, I pulled down my drawers so that I was finally naked. I felt both terrified and alive. I face Thomas whose eyes hungrily roamed over my body, and he lapsed into silence. I feared the worst as I knew I had multiple scars, healing bruises, burns and other marks.

 _How could I do this? How could I?_ I was welling up, panicking that Thomas still had not spoken. _He was going to change his mind – be too disgusted by my body._

‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured at last. Before I even had time to disagree, he was kissing me whilst guiding me by my hips towards the bed. I obeyed, only focusing on kissing him, trying not to think too much about what was next. I did not talk, I did not know what to say, so I followed his lead, only futilely aware that his earlier reasoning of him being the novice and I the one with experience was proving rather false.

Before I had time to think, I was on the bed again, this time lying down flat on my back as Thomas’ body easily arched over my own one of his arms placed by my head for support. I was nervous of how confined I felt but soon this melted away as his mouth roamed my body, his free hand tracing idle patterns on my skin, his breath hot and heavy as he placed kisses at what I first thought at random points of my body; my breasts, the valley between them, my upper abdomen, moving lower down slowly ... I realised he was kissing each flaw, each blemish upon my skin, his mouth moving from one to the next carefully as though mapping each one to his memory. I was overwhelmed by the act of utter devotion to my body. It was beyond words to see Thomas not ignore or look disgusted by the reminders of my past, but accept them as part of what made me who I was today. It was both erotic and deeply emotional so that he had me near tears. When he reached my lower stomach, he stopped his gentle kisses and traced his index finger along a particularly ugly scar that trailed across my lower belly and wrapped around my hip. His blue eyes darted up to my face. I knew that look - his blind curiosity was getting the better of him once more.

‘I-Is this from when you were pregnant?’ he asked, his voice so quiet as though nervous I might get upset.

 _Of all the times to ask this question_ , I thought distractedly. But the look in his eyes was not disgust, just an earnest desire to know me. _He would eventually need to know who the father was – he seemed desperate to hear it - but not now – no, not now._

‘No,’ I answered, trying to be honest, yet not wanting to lose focus of what we were doing. ‘It’s from - from after that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, his free hand trailing my thigh now. ‘In time, I know you will share. Are you alright?’

I shook my head, trying to figure this out. ‘This is all … so - so different from … before.’

‘Different how?’ Thomas asked, again I could sense the burning curiosity rolling off his stare on waves. He thirsted for every bit of knowledge he could discover about me.

‘Because I want it,’ I answered, looking into his blue eyes I could only be honest. ‘I - I feel warm – every one of your touches sends rolls of desire rippling through me. I feel curious and excited but scared – or nervous maybe? Is that normal – does it even make sense?’

‘Yes to both,’ Thomas answered slowly, his fingers tracing patterns on my stomach. ‘It’s normal when you feel want, desire and love. Did you ever feel anything remotely … pleasurable before with - with the other men?’ His eyes were wide, sad yet determined to figure out my mind-set right now.

I shook my head. ‘It was for their pleasure,’ I whispered shortly, finding it impossible to look away from Thomas now.

‘This won’t be like that,’ Thomas assured me, kissing my lips softly once more. ‘It may sting at first, but you will feel pleasure, I promise. You’ll feel your orgasm build - ’

‘My WHAT?’ I squeaked, my face reddening immediately. ‘Women – women can get those too?’

Thomas nodded his eyes roaming my body once more. ‘Of course, in the right hands, your body will experience pleasure, will release. That’s why you feel warm at my touch – it’s your desire for more. It's a good thing.’

He looked saddened now, his gaze lingering at certain points of my body.

‘Look at me,’ I pleaded quietly. He immediately looked up at me. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘That you deserved to be made love to – not used for other men’s pleasures,’ Thomas answered slowly, he was gaging my reaction, no doubt worried I was going to get angry, or upset or withdraw as I had done all week.

On the contrary, I felt touched by his words, they encouraged me. ‘Then do it – make love to me,’ I said sweetly, pressing his lips in for a kiss. He kissed back, his free hand gripping my thigh as he ground his middle against my stomach I could feel his stiff cock desperate to be released from his drawers at last. His hand was tracing up my inner thigh, my legs automatically widening the higher up his touch went and he took this moment to readjust himself between them. Our breaths were mingled now, our kissing sloppy. Finally he reached my mound, fingers idly tracing the light patch of curls before drawing one finger vertically down my lips sending a bolt of sheer pleasure through me so that my hips twitched against his body.

‘I’m going to make you feel so good, Josephine,’ Thomas whispered his breath by my ear. His fingers traced my outer lips idly before he boldly delved one into my womanhood. I groaned, a mix of fear and excitement rushing through me. ‘I already am, see? This is where the warmth you feel comes from. It’s hot and slick and will coat my cock nicely when it pushes deep inside of you.’

I whimpered again, my eyes blown wide by his vulgar talk but yet it kept me grounded, instilling in me he was right with every word he spoke – he was preparing me, fuelling my desire rather than rutting in too quickly when I was already nervous. ‘Nice and slow, nice and slow,’ he repeated, sliding his finger slowly in and out of me. I was struggling not to cry out at the new sensations of sheer ecstasy his touch was creating inside of me. ‘I’ll teach you so much, show you so much, bring you so much pleasure, you’ll never remember those other men again,’ Thomas vowed and he added a second finger inside me. ‘Josephine, you’re so warm, so velvet, so tight,’ he began to make scissor movement and I was mewling, my back arching into his touch. ‘I promise, I’ll teach you it all. But tonight, we’ll take it slow.’

 _Was this desire? Was this the way sex should feel?_ _So good, so damn intense_. 

No other men ensured I was prepared before. Right now I couldn’t even remember other men. There was only Thomas. He teased his fingers inside me a few more times, twisting and stretching them inside me. ‘Oh, you’re ready darling, aren’t you?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ I panted in reply. I couldn’t think, I could only feel his fingers sliding in and out, aware only of the intensity of the sensation. The warmth I felt was embarrassingly slipping out of my cunt as Thomas continued to tease my entrance. He was ensuring I was slick, completely aroused and prepared to take his cock.

‘Good girl,’ Thomas panted. He slowly slid his fingers out of me and I whimpered at the sudden loss. ‘Hush now, I’ve got something that will feel so much better,’ he whispered. His voice was so husky, so in control and so confidant. I helped him push down his drawers and he raised either of my legs so that I would be wedged closer to his hips. He guided the head of his cock against my entrance. I took a deep breath, my eyes closed tight. He pushed in slowly, and I clutched at his lower back whilst exhaling deeply, aware that there was indeed a slickness that coated his way in. That was never the way it was before. Yet, my body still reacted in blind fear at first, my muscles instinctively acting to stop the intrusion and I tightened significantly around his cock - incidentally, only making him tremble so much I thought he would release on the spot. He groaned, his eyes flickering slightly. 'I'll go slower,' he eventually breathed, stilling his actions to give me a moment to adjust. 'It's alright Josephine, I've got you. Relax.' I nodded, his voice soothing me again and I relaxed my muscles somewhat, but gripped my legs tighter around Thomas' hips to show him I wanted to continue. He pushed in some more and I moaned - the feeling so thick – so much so – I couldn’t - think ‘Thomas,’ I groaned, bucking my hips closer to him. I didn’t care how I sounded. Finally he pushed further in until he was firmly lodged within me as far as he could go so that I could feel his balls rest by my rear. He was so big – bigger than any other man I had been with that was for sure.

‘Are you alright?’ I opened my eyes to see a sweaty Thomas concerned eyes swimming before mine. 

‘Yes,’ I breathed. Truthfully there was a twinge of pain, but largely only a satisfyingly full feeling.

He slowly started to pull out, just half-way before pushing back into me again. His free hand found my breast and gently groped the fleshy mound. His thumb padding the nipple before toying with it by tugging it and lightly squeezing it before lavishing equal treatment on my other breast. I was panting and moaning beneath him, feeling my stomach muscles and my walls tighten around his cock. He groaned louder, his breath hot and heavy, his thrusts increasing. Finally he let go of my breasts his hand finding its way back down to my womanhood again. His fingers expertly seemed probed above the slit where our bodies joined. I felt his thumb gently prise until finally it brushed against a bundle of nerves that made my back arch and walls spasm significantly around Thomas’ cock. I cried out sharply never feeling such a thing in all my life. ‘This is your pleasure,’ Thomas explained, his breath mere heavy pants. ‘Or more precisely your clit, a bundle of nerves made for you to feel good.’ He touched it again this time gently and I found myself starting to meet Thomas’s thrusts with ones of my own. I was gripping onto his bum with one hand now, the other curling the sheets beneath me. I was lost in pleasure, in feeling. I was no longer thinking but rather was only an instrument being played by Thomas. His thrusts were becoming sloppy and erratic yet he slowed down to toy with my clit some more, increasing this pleasure so that all the muscles in my body seemed to tighten again. I could barely process the various sensations coursing through my veins now - all were equally exquisite and too hard to differentiate - a constant ebb and flow of pleasure. I was moaning louder, in near ecstatic tears. ‘I – I so good, Thom,’ I whimpered between my cries and groans.

‘Come, my darling girl,’ Thomas said in harsh whisper between breaths. ‘Don’t think. Don’t feel – just - ugh - just give in - to me.’

I did just that, I let go, and allowed Thomas to send my body into a rush of what can only be described as bliss. My body was tightening and releasing at the same time as I choked out Thomas’ name. Finally I felt him come too, unable to hold back anymore. ‘Jo-Jo,’ he groaned and I felt the white hot release of spurts of his seed deep within me. He continued to rock against me weakly until he caught his breath, finally pulling out his softening cock.

We both lay against one another for a moment, Thomas perhaps taking my silence as a bad thing finally spoke. ‘A-are you alright? Did I hurt you?’

I opened my eyes and looked at him almost giddily. ‘No – that was – I didn’t know what sex was – what love was until now,’ I answered with a grin. I felt exhausted by the amount of pleasure I just received but blissful. ‘I loved every second of it, or should I say Jojo did?’

Thomas chuckled, pulling a folded blanket from the end of the bed around us. ‘Josephine is a very hard name to say when climaxing.’

‘Had much practice saying my name when climaxing?’ I queried teasingly, curling up closer to him. There was a slightly awkward pause.

‘I admit – I had fantasies,’ Thomas confessed. ‘You were much better than those.’

I couldn’t help it, I started to laugh giddily, soon Thomas joining in. We both laughed, unable to stop for some time as we came down from our respective highs. I curled closer to him, my head resting against his chest. He wrapped his arm around me tightly as we curled beneath the blanket. ‘Thank you for trusting me enough to do this. I love you, darling.’

‘I love you Thomas,’ I whispered, my voice a little drowsy now.

Thomas was toying with my hair lightly as I started to rest against him. ‘Are you sure you are alright – no pain or soreness?’

‘I’m fine – better than fine,’ I admitted quietly. ‘I feel safe, happy, loved … tired.’

‘As do I,’ he answered with a warm smile kissing the top of my head as I dozed off against him. ‘Sleep, well Jojo dearest.’ Soon I was falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat feeling safe and comfortable in the arms of my husband.

 

 

**_Thomas’ POV_ **

 

Josephine was asleep in my arms. I had been debating for the last hour or so whether to risk disturbing her slumber or not. I needed to contact Lucille but guilt kept me from rising to write a letter.

_Lucille hated to be alone for long periods, but in the morning I could write her and explain the matters at hand, surely she would understand? Afterall, I still needed to transfer Josephine’s family finances into my name. I could not return to Allerdale Hall without doing that much. For that to happen I needed to wait at least another week, maybe two, before I could convincingly convey to Josephine that Henry was not going to recover and that while we would do all we could to make him comfortable it was time to move on – back to Allerdale Hall. Lucille would be wary if I moved too quickly, she would fear I was falling for Josephine or that Josephine was a risk to our relationship. No, I had to convince her I was adamant to stick to her plan. And I had to seem busy, but bored by my new wife._

_Tonight I had made huge progress. I had convinced Josephine to open to me and though shocked by her reaction, in the end she demonstrated her trust to me. She allowed me to make love to her and I relished in the sensation. I was worried about hurting her or scaring her but she seemed to adjust well. I was most shaken by her body. I had seen her naked before but never had much opportunity to really observe her form. She showed so much evidence of abuse; scars, bruises, burns and lashes riddled her skin. Some looked fairly recent. And I saw stretchmarks too – was this proof she carried her child to term? I could only kiss each mark upon her skin and show to her I thought her beautiful. She was beautiful – this was undeniably true. Such snow white skin that contrasted strikingly with her dark red curls. Her full, luscious frame – so curvy, such plump breasts that jiggled with every thrust of my hips, I couldn't resist touching them, playing with their delightful weights and teasing her nipples out. Her hips were made to be held too, gripped tight. I could worship her form and it was so different to the only other partner I had ever known. I had to remain calm though, knowing I had to go slow with her and not over-stimulate her or push her too much during our first time together. I would never forget the feeling of sinking into her warmth for the first time and hearing her satisfying groans of pleasure. Feeling her tighten around my cock was heavenly – better than any fantasy I had concocted in recent weeks of being with her._

_Yet, this made it all the harder to endure the full site of Josephine’s beaten body. I was shocked and angry but did everything I could to make her enjoy sex. I was horrified to discover she did not even realise she could feel pleasure during sex so I talked her through it, my voice hopefully guiding her through the new sensations, encouraging her, letting her know it was normal to feel pleasure and to remind her I was here with her, I would not hurt her._

I looked down at her sleeping form and smiled warmly. _Perhaps I pushed her earlier into opening up and maybe we rushed into sex right after, but wasn’t it worth it? She seemed to finally let go and experience pleasure._ I felt proud of that. _Maybe with me she could let go of her past._

I watched her sleeping for some time, temporarily forgetting all else – Lucille, the money, the plans … _God she was enchanting_. I felt the strong need to keep her here in my arms forever. I couldn’t let go of my rage at her treatment though. I doubt I ever would. Which is why even now I was plagued by the need to know the full details of her past. ‘I’ll get them Jojo,’ I whispered, affectionately kissing the top of her head once more. ‘They’ll pay.’

She murmured quietly in response and I froze, mentally cursing myself for disturbing her sleep.

She quickly seemed to be stirring now, twisting slightly in her sleep. I lay still unsure to wake her fully or let her settle once more. Finally she sat up, sluggishly. I watched her with the slightest prickle of fear, for she was still mumbling quietly – too quietly for me to hear.

‘What Jojo?’ I asked in a hopefully lightly teasing manner.

‘Will I bathe now?’ she said, this time looking down in my direction. Her sudden stare made my heart drop. What little light was left from the dwindling fire had dully illuminated her face. Her eyes was glassy, her gaze unfocused, one of her arms was covering her breasts. I had seen her like this once before – in Allerdale Hall I saw her roam the halls late at night. I first heard her confused murmurs, followed them and found her on the third floor, scraping the wallpaper and talking of _“Finding the shadows”_ and groaning. She had finally woke then when I shook her but an eerie sense of fear told me not to do this now, for she was more awake and yet still more asleep. _Who knows where she thought she was right now?_

‘Bathe?’ I asked in a gentle whisper. ‘Why?’

She nodded, her body seizing up as though deeply uncomfortable. ‘I’m dirty. I’ll bathe now – the hot water - very, very hot. Out, damned spot! Out, I say!’ She laughed, but it was not a familiar sound it was cold and distant. It didn’t sound like Josephine at all and it chilled me to my bones. I watched her stand up slowly, stepping calmly towards the bathroom almost ghostlike but certain in her movements.

‘Wait!’ I called out sharply, joining her quickly by her side. She flinched, whether at my sudden movement or my shout I did not know, but it deeply unsettled me. I would not leave her alone for a second in such a disorientated state. I did the only thing that felt right – I tried to keep her talking. ‘I – hot water – why does it have to be very, very hot water?’

‘It just has to be,’ she explained pausing now. ‘Conrad said to take them - to stop it from happening again - no more – no more.’ I noticed her hand was on her middle now, resting there but twitching slightly as though scared by it.

 _That bastard! I will skin him alive when I find him._  I was fixated on Josephine’s actions.

I took a deep breath and tried to refocus my attention. _I had to know, I had to_. Any moment now she could wake up but I needed to know what she meant. ‘Josephine, what is no more?’ I asked, my eyes couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing or hearing. _My naked wife looked sedated but awake. My heart ached to see her so heavily confused. This was worse than her outburst – because now she was literally reliving some dark aspect of her past. So help me, but my dark twisted mind needed to hear more._ ‘Tell me now, what is no more?’

‘I can’t carry another child,’ she whispered so quietly I had to step closer to her ever so gently this time, not willing to startle her. She sounded terrified and I ever so gently placed my hands on her own shaking ones which rested on her middle. She barely noticed my touch – she was lost in a memory, a nightmare. ‘He was so mad the last time – so mad I ruined it all. He had to hide me so no one would know.’

‘Who?’ I demanded, feeling a sudden rush of anger. _Who the fuck did this? Who inflicted so much damage? Who was responsible for the state of her body and mind? This was the moment it all boiled down to._ Suddenly, I was gripping her wrists too tightly. _I had to know, I had to know. Proof – concrete words of who was behind the bruising, the marks, the beatings, responsible for the rape and for the child Josephine was forced to carry. Responsible for hiding her, allowing her to endure this alone. I would kill the man she named, so help me god, I would make him suffer. I would kill him slowly and the last thing he would see before he died was my face, the last thing he heard would be my voice, the last thing he remembered would be the acts he left Josephine to endure. He would know. He would pay. He would suffer as she had. I suspected who it was but needed to be sure..._

She shook her head, dark red curls tossing from side to side. ‘No – no – I’m not supposed to tell -’

I was livid – so close to the truth. She had to tell me.‘WHO?’ I barked, unable to remain calm, jostling her by her wrists.

She flinched before me just as her head jerked sharply to the side as though hit by an invisible hand. She made no attempt to stop this imaginary blow, instead her delicate hands immediately curved around her stomach as though protecting it from my rage. Instantly, I felt heartbroken by her evident instinct - even when reliving some nightmare - it had been her mothering instinct to protect her unborn child from any threat. Immediately I let go of her wrists, disgusted by myself. _So the child may have been forced upon Josephine, she may have been terrified to carry it, but, she felt something for it all the same. My poor sweet lily, how could you ever forget the babe that grew within you? I knew you could not - I knew once that bond between parent and child was created - even if unexpectedly so - it was next to impossible to let go._  So my only thought now was to guide her safely back to bed, to let her rest soundly, and let her forget. _I pushed her too hard - too much information was shared by her earlier and without proper time to reflect she slept with me, no doubt out of guilt to prove she loved me. I brought this upon her - she told me once her sleep troubles were brought on by stress. I did this to her._

But then she spoke, finally answering my question by quietly whispering one word into the growing darkness with a deeply trembling, clearly terrified voice as though she was calling upon the name of Lucifer himself. ‘Henry.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware this chapter contains very dark material that may be offensive. Reader discretion is advised.

**Thomas’ POV**

_Should I really be surprised to hear his name confessed into the darkness by her trembling voice?_ _Should I be surprised after all this time, after observing their tenuous relationship and his domineering persona, particularly when he was drunk, which was frequent?_

I cleared my throat, thinking furiously yet trying, outwardly at least, to look calm. ‘Bed now, darling,’ I called, my voice wavering as though I were breathless. The words dangled in the air with a childlike simplicity. I was surprised to hear any words at all escape my mouth, let alone in such a gentle tone. I was shaking, the air felt too thin to breathe in, my head was spinning for all I could hear was the terrified murmur of ‘Henry’ in Josephine’s quiet voice, loudly tolling like a bell every second in my mind.

 **_‘Henry.’_ ** _He was responsible._

 **_‘Henry.’_ ** _In what sense; as the aggressor or as the facilitator?_

_‘ **Henry.’** As the rapist? As the father of her child?_

**_‘Henry.’_ ** _Nevertheless, the monster who failed to protect his sister._

 **_‘Henry.’_ ** _I would kill him._

**_‘Henry.’_ **

**_‘Henry.’_ **

**_‘Henry.’_ **

I shook my head, vainly trying to drown out the tolling of his name ringing in my ears. But I could not. I would never. My breath was short. I wish I had misheard her, but there was no mistaking what she said.  

Every ordeal, every mark, every slight Josephine endured was by his hand. It was as though I just witnessed something horrific unfold. The last time I remembered feeling like this was at the sight of mother’s body, butchered and mutilated beyond recognition by Lucille’s hand before me when I was but a mere boy. Lucille had held me through the night then. Lucille had saved me from the horror.

_I wanted Lucille. I needed Lucille. She would know how to handle this. She always knew._

‘But should I bathe first?’ a gentle voice asked in a hesitant whisper.

I blinked, breaking the memory and looked at Josephine. Her eyes were glazed over, still asleep though awake with her body beaten, her soul damaged – _my dear heart_. It was horrible, too much for her to have endured. Too much for me to deal with. I felt nauseous – sick to my stomach for I had a mad desire to bolt again right now. _I could simply leave her alone to cope with her trauma for what could I do to mend it?_ Her trauma, her forced encounters made me nauseous just to think of.

Yet this was nothing compared to the trauma endured by the young woman in front of me. This woman, my wife who had no one else in the world to help her. I took a deep breath.

‘Bathe tomorrow. For now, let us go to bed,’ I responded quietly trying to make my voice as calm as possible. I made to to reach for her shoulders to gently guide her to bed out of a brief impulse to hold her, comfort her and show her kindness. However the moment I brushed off her skin, she flinched.

‘I’m sorry,’ she quickly blurted out, her head low. She was stepping back from me her slight hands covering her middle once more. ‘I won’t do it again – I won’t – just please, no more – no, I can’t. I’m tired – no more, please,’ she begged her nails now slightly digging into her stomach.

‘Hush now,’ I gently interrupted, trying to soothe her. I was aware my eyes were filling rapidly as I studied her over. She was utterly distraught, scared and broken. _Why had I chosen her? Hadn’t she suffered enough for one lifetime – or several?_ ‘Bed darling,’ I finally continued resisting the urge to hold her tight. ‘Is that what you want?’

Her actions froze. ‘What I - ?’ she called in an uncertain tone. ‘What I want?’

‘Yes, tell me what you want,’ I pleaded, desperately hoping to calm her.

‘I want to go to bed,’ she said slowly as though uncertain if that was the right choice. ‘Alone.’

My heart slightly ached at this but for now I conceded, hurriedly wiping my eyes before continuing. ‘Alright, then go to bed – alone.’ I watched her go back to bed with ghostlike movements. She nestled herself into the sheets as though she were an animal burrowing into its nest. The quilts were tightly huddled around her form - a symbol of comfort, of protection.

For some time I stood and watched her until her deep breathing convinced me she was asleep. Once satisfied, I added some logs to the fire to keep it burning and changed into my pyjamas before settling into an armchair by the window in clear view of where Josephine slept in the bed. Yet I could not sleep as I wanted to keep a watchful eye on her, remain awake and ensure no harm would ever befall her again. It was futile to protect her now, the worst was over after all. _Or was it?_ That choice was mine, I suppose. My mind raced far too much for me to fall asleep. _Would it be kinder to take her from London? Lucille could – could make her her special tea. And, in a short time, all her suffering would be over. But her suffering was over. I was here with her now. And Josephine still had life, hope, joy, curiosity and intelligence within her. When she truly smiled it was as though she never suffered single day of sorrow. What does that mean? She deserves to be cared for and protected._ _Truthfully, I could not imagine a world without her in it. Her touch, her voice, her warmth, her wit – it was so different to everything I thought I knew about love. If I left, how long would it be before she was used again?_ With my hands buried into my hair, I tried to simultaneously block out and imagine what she endured. It was too much. I could only picture her protests, her fear, her desperate primitive urge and subsequent repulsion to protect her unborn child. And what if, just what if she was forced to endure the assaults when pregnant too? I let out a strangled cry, sharply tugging on my hair to hush my own screams and also to distract myself from such horrific imaginings. But I could not.

I quickly ran to the bathroom, barely making it through the door before vomiting into the tub. I never had a strong threshold for pain or violence. I had a weak constitution for all things gruesome since childhood. It was my Lucille – _my dear sweet Lucy_ – who would know how to deal with this. Isn’t that what siblings do – provide strength? I heaved once more vomiting the remains of my day’s meals into the tub before running the water to wash away the sickly sight. _Lucille. I needed Lucille. But who then would Josephine call upon? Poor Jojo would never call upon Henry for protection. For whatever disturbing perspectives society may have about relationships like mine and Lucille’s it was at least consensual, not forced._

I stood shakily wiping the corner of my mouth and washing my face before returning back to the bedroom once more. I felt weak now and collapsed into the armchair once more, keeping a steady eye on Jojo’s sleeping form before my eyelids fell heavy and I gave way into sleep.

**Josephine’s POV**

I awoke slowly, aware of nothing other than the softness of my undoubtedly self-created cocoon of silk and cottons that were the hotels quilts and sheet’s. Last night had been more enjoyable than I possibly imagined. Thomas had been an amazing lover.  I felt little pain, mostly pleasure and surprisingly had little signs of any stress. I expected not to sleep after we had sex as I thought I would be haunted in some way by my past, by the last time…but no, I fell asleep rather quickly.

Grinning rather pleased with how well I was coping I raised a hand out to feel for Thomas’ presence beside me. But my hand merely fell through the air and onto the plump feather pillow beside my own. I blinked dazedly and stretched slowly, untangling myself with surprising difficulty from my nest of blankets. I hissed quietly, a dull throb from my womanhood reminding me that I was not exactly pain free. So last night had after all left a phantom or real pain.

‘Are you alright?’ a voice asked quietly from the side of the room.

Quickly uncurling the blanket whilst keeping a sheet pressed to my naked breasts I sat up to find Thomas sitting on an armchair. A tray of food lay untouched on a table beside him.

I grinned sleepily. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I answered shyly, gathering more sheets around me as I noted he was fully dressed already. ‘Have I slept in?’

‘It’s a little over noon, darling,’ Thomas answered, meeting my stare, unperturbed by my shyness or nakedness.

I felt a blush rise on my cheeks. ‘I-I didn’t realise it was so late,’ I answered feeling increasingly uncomfortable for Thomas did not look as happy as I expected him to be, as happy as I felt after last night. ‘I’m so sorry. You should have woken me up.’

‘I expect you were tired after last night,’ he answered. I thought he would be joyous after laying with his wife for the first time, but instead he looked downcast and tired. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his face was paler than usual. His behaviour and tone caught me off guard and a prickle of goosebumps raised on the back of my neck.

‘You look as though you could do with a lie-in yourself,’ I answered, trying to work out if I had said or did something to upset him.

‘I had a rather … unexpected night,’ he answered a little hesitantly. Again his eyes met mine as though trying to search for something, some meaning or answer but I had no idea as to what that may be.

I cocked my head to the side. ‘Did you not enjoy last night?’ I asked, unable to keep the hurt tone from my voice.

‘I enjoyed making love to you,’ Thomas answered a small smile on his face as a wave of relief washed over me. ‘It was afterwards that frightened me.’

I looked utterly lost now. ‘What do you mean? Didn’t we fall asleep right after,’ I replied, ignoring my grumbling stomach as I started to wake up fully. ‘Oh, did you have a bad dream?’ I queried, thinking I had ignored his bad dream as I slept heavily through the night.

‘You did,’ he said simply and there was a tone of disgust ringing clear in his voice. ‘It sounded very intense - terrifying really. You gave me quite a fright.’

I felt myself grow pale. Reaching forward and holding the sheets to my chest I picked up my Thomas’ dark green cotton dressing gown at the end of the bed and quickly put it on. ‘I’m sorry. It does happen from time to time,’ I answered, my voice slightly shaking as I got off the bed, ensuring the robe was fastened tight around me. ‘Best to ignore it really. I’ll just take a warm bath.’

‘Josephine,’ Thomas called warningly behind me. ‘You were talking in your sleep about the past. About Henry, I believe.’

I paused, fiddling with the robes fastenings to avoid his piercing stare. ‘Like I said best to ignore - ’

‘Don’t do this. You promised you wouldn’t do this,’ Thomas continued. I looked up to see him sitting calmly in the chair. He looked weary, as though he aged thirty years over night.

‘You said you would give me time to explain,’ I answered quietly. ‘You said when I was ready I could share.’

‘I cannot forget what I heard or saw last night,’ Thomas replied, his blue eyes filling rapidly. ‘Please don’t ask me to.’

I bit my lip and looked away. ‘I’m not asking you to. I only ask you keep it to yourself,’ I answered aware my tone was now growing cold again which made me immediately feel guilty. ‘I don’t want to fight Thomas,’ I said with a weary sigh. ‘Truly, I do not. Come let’s do something together today, just the two of us. Forget last night – sleepy murmurs are all they were. Just leave me take a bath first and - ’

‘A really warm bath I suppose?’ Thomas interjected sharply a twisted smile now on his face.

I paused, his tone so crude it startled me but I forced a laugh. ‘Yes, I imagine it will be – there wouldn’t be much enjoyment in a cold bath.’

‘Do you know what else warm baths are useful for?’ Thomas asked quietly. ‘Very, very hot baths, I mean.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m done with your riddles Thomas,’ I answered sharply. ‘Either drop it or leave me in peace. It’s rather juvenile - ’

‘Contraception,’ he continued as though he hadn’t heard me speak. ‘Such a hot degree of water is considered a method of birth control.’

I swallowed thickly, meeting his glare with a certain defiance. ‘I’ve heard of such things,’ I admitted quietly. ‘It’s a modern age after all. Women have the right to plan their families if they choose. I was told that - ’

‘Let me guess, from our dear Doctor Conrad?’ Thomas queried, his eyes now flashing an iron like blueness that signalled his rising temper. ‘Tell me, do you think your husband should know if you plan to use contraception or not?’

‘I – I haven’t thought about it,’ I admitted, feeling like a deer in the headlights now. _For how much did Thomas know?_ ‘Yet, it’s irrelevant. I haven’t used any. It’s something we can discuss.’

‘Your subconscious has already made the choice,’ Thomas answered, looking disgusted once again. ‘Last night one you were sleepwalking and insisted to take a bath.’

I felt tears prickle my eyes. ‘Hardly the crime of the century?’ I snapped in a bitter tone. ‘It doesn’t necessarily mean I planned to use it as a means of birth control.’

‘Exactly what I thought,’ Thomas said, now looking dejected. ‘I asked you what for and you made it clear you do not wish to carry another child.’

‘So, you decide to quiz my unconscious form to discover my past? Is that it? You had no right Thomas!’ I suddenly barked, feeling livid. ‘Don’t get mad at me for something I don’t even remember!’

‘You won’t tell me any other way,’ Thomas answered sounding like a sullen child, arms suddenly gripping the side of his chair as though he was trying to force himself to renain seated. ‘I have a right to know! I’ve been up all night thinking what this means – I never know where I stand with you! Don’t you see? I have to know, Josephine!’

‘No – no you don’t!’ I cried out. ‘It’s my past Thomas – MINE! I told you I will tell you in time. I don’t know every detail of your past and I’m not hounding you for it!’

‘It’s my right as your husband!’ he shouted, causing me to flinch. His eyes narrowed at my response. ‘We shouldn’t have slept together,’ he said slightly quieter now, eyeing the open window with distaste. My eyes filled before him and my heart fell at his words. _Did he regret our first time together?_ _Was I not good enough? I thought he enjoyed it too, but was it all fake?_ I felt lightheaded and sat on the floor quietly before him, ringing my fingers through my hair. Thomas was still looking out the hotel window. ‘We should have discussed things before we took such a step. Obviously you do not wish to carry my child.’

I was barely listening to him now. I just sat on the floor, tears streaming down my face as I realised what had happened. _We had rushed things but now he was regretting it all._ ‘That’s not true – it’s not,’ I sighed and wiped my eyes. ‘I hadn’t thought about it much – I - I'm sorry this keeps happening. I can't change the past, Thomas’

'I know, shhh - I snapped just now but I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, darling. I wish I knew what happened so that I can help you. I've been up most the night worrying about you' Thomas explained as he rose from his chair to sit directly opposite me on the floor. ‘It’s all because of Henry, isn’t it?’ Suddenly we were equals, anger gone from the room and replaced by this burning curiosity.

‘Henry?’ I queried lightly. ‘Y-yes and no. I-it started when I was seventeen,’ I murmured quietly.

‘Josephine?’ Thomas was looking at my disheveled state warily. ‘I didn’t mean what I said before. I won’t force you to share. You don’t have to if you’re not ready.’

‘I do,’ I answered. ‘We’re constantly going to be at each other throats unless you understand. I’ll tell you some today. Maybe then you will understand.’

Thomas reached out for my hands but I sharply pulled them away. ‘Don’t – it’ll just make it harder to begin to talk,’ I explained. Thomas nodded but it was clear he longed to reach out and comfort me, but if he did that I would succumb to tears now and never begin to share. So I rested my eyes by the open window, closing them briefly listening to the birdsong before I began.

‘Henry was a good boy,’ I started, causing Thomas to eye me doubtfully. I laughed wiping tears from my face. ‘He was,’ I continued. ‘Like all boys, he was into rough and tumble. He was always dirty, scrapped knees and hands - always exploring and adventuring. I guess early on I was jealous. He could play rough whilst I was made play nice. But he was always causing trouble too. Mostly because he never knew when to shut his mouth,’ I explained, smiling faintly now as I pushed my wild hair from my eyes. ‘It was cute for a time – you know a daring, cheeky boy was endearing when small. Without mother around to reign him in he was bolder than most boys as he got older. I suppose that’s where his bad behaviour started really. Our nannies never stayed for long with Henry around and my father was always too busy working to really scold him. He ran free as a child so he expected to do the same as an adult.'

'But a wild child can be tamed and become a respectable adult,'Thomas interjected gently a slight disappointed look on his face.'I'm sure it was hard on all of you growing up without your mother. Your father absence didn't help, I'm sure. Did he have to work all the time?’ 

I smiled and nodded. ‘He did. He ran the family business. Without him we would have had nothing. Father was a good man. I would stay up every night waiting for him to come home. He said I reminded him most of mother, especially as I got older. He said I had her spirit, kindness and humour. For as long as I can remember he said I had an old soul though I never knew what it meant.’

‘I know what he means,’ Thomas added kindly. ‘You observe everything and everyone. You speak carefully – I noticed it right away when we first met.’

I smiled briefly ‘It was also my downfall,’ I continued my eyes growing dark.

‘How so?’ Thomas asked, his eyes burning to know – to finally know how this all began.

‘As we got older, things changed,’ I explained, finding a comforting Thomas’ eyes. ‘Henry’s boyish tricks escalated quickly to mean and horrid acts. He was frequently sent home from school for fighting other boys or stealing food. He'd break my dolls or trip the staff when the went about the house. At first I pitted him - he never had many friends and seemed ...lost. I told father he missed a male figure to guide him by day.’

‘Wise words for a child,’ Thomas interrupted with an eyebrow raised. ‘Old soul indeed.’

I shrugged, smiling slightly. ‘I was the youngest so I saw more of Henry at home than my father or my sister. She was rarely home as we grew older. She was very popular and escorted everywhere. She was nicknamed ‘London’s beauty.’ Men travelled the length and breadth of England just to court her. By the time she was twenty-one she decided on her husband – a royal marine.’

‘And Henry?’ Thomas probed gently.

‘Well at this stage Henry was kicked out of two universities for failing exams. He was constantly in fights. The few friends he manged to make at university were slightly strange.They all hung out at the same gambling club - no doubt sticking with him because Henry had money. But one-day father had enough of the fights, of the drinking and of the scandals. He told Henry that he would cut him off from all the family money unless he got his act together, got a job and stopped acting like a child.Father got him a job but he was fired for showing up drunk the first day and for verbally abusing the boss. We found out that Henry told the boss he was above sweeping floors for a living. That was it - the final straw. Father was livid - the angriest I've ever seen him. He said Henry had to learn the value of hardwork and respect for your fellow man no matter what position he held in life. He said Henry was a disgrace to the family name and told him to leave.’

‘And he left, just like that?’ Thomas asked, a slight disbelief in his tone.

I sighed, suddenly looking at Thomas and feeling terrified. I reached for his hand and he scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around me as I nestled my head against his chest. ‘Not exactly…he stole some family heirlooms and took off. For some time, we neither saw him or heard anything about him. But I felt sorry for him. I begged father to find him as mother wouldn’t want the family torn apart but he wouldn’t listen. I decided to track him down myself. It wasn't hard. I found him in his local gambling club. He looked such a mess and my heart broke for him. I wish now I left him there.’

Thomas kissed the top of my head. ‘You have a good heart, there’s no shame in that.’

‘Turns out he was homeless,’ I continued, trying to relax against Thomas frame. ‘He stole, begged borrowed and was going hungry on the streets. I brought him food every day. But after awhile I discovered he owed big money to some gambling boss. Well I told father straight away and he was furious with me. Said I went behind his back and let him down. As punishment I was to be homebound for two weeks whilst father and sister went to meet her fiancés family.’

‘That was harsh,’ Thomas said flatly, soothingly rubbing my hair.

‘He did it to protect me, so I would be indoors,’ I explained. ‘I had planned to stay at home anyway and organise a return surprise party for my sister and her fiancé. But it didn’t work out that way. On the second day I found a letter addressed for me from Henry. He was desperate for a place to stay, so I agreed. It was winter and so cold on the streets I just couldn’t let him sleep outdoors.’

‘So he stayed whilst your father was away?’ Thomas asked and he could feel the tension in my body now as I tried to stay focused.

‘Yes, I left a key outside under a flower pot when my maid was busy. I also left a note saying to enter well after midnight when the staff would surely be asleep.’

‘And, so he stayed for awhile?’ Thomas asked. ‘Until your family got back?’

‘They never came back,’ I answered quietly. ‘That night everything changed.’

‘What happened, darling?’ Thomas asked, no longer sure whether to keep rubbing my back.

I felt myself start to weep openly. I scooted closer to Thomas and he let me sit on his lap. I clung to his clothes like a lifeline.

‘I was asleep upstairs in my room. I woke when I heard laughing. It was strange - like one of those dreams where you’re not quite sure if you’re still sleeping or not,’ Thomas nodded solemnly. ‘Well I eventually awoke and Henry was there by my bedside. He stank of booze and cigarettes. He sat on my bed and said he was in big trouble. The guy he owed money too was calling in the debt and that he had no other choice but to find a way to pay or risk his own life. I told him to take the silver, the jewels – whatever he needed because I had no access to any cash…’ my tears were falling into Thomas shirt and he held me so close as though he would could prevent the past by holding me tightly.

‘Then what?’ he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse as though he were crying.

‘He said that this guy could get jewels or silver if he wanted. He said he wanted the promise of something else – he would cancel the debt and even pay Henry if he could get it.’

‘What did he want?’ Thomas whispered.

‘Purity,’ I cried softly. ‘I was valuable, a virgin, from good stock, no chance of sexual disease. He payed a good price to rent me and came back many times after - sometimes with company.’

There was silence, I could feel my own tears drench Thomas shirt.

‘But your father, your sister? Surely someone knew something – someone saw?’ Thomas asked, not bothering to mask his pain or shock.

‘That first night and some nights after Henry stayed and watched from the corner. I was gagged sometimes so I couldn’t call for help. And … ’ I took a deep breath. ‘F-father and sister never made it back – they died in a carriage accident on their way h-home. Henry as the sole living male heir took hold of the house, the finances, the staff. He started new businesses mainly booze manufacturing and gambling. Conrad got on board as an investor amongst other things. He was a respected face for the business. Henry continued to allow me to be rented. I turned over a profit and helped to please the men he wished to do business with. But once I fell pregnant...’

‘What happened then?’ Thomas whispered.

‘First there was no change. Until I started having symptoms so I was placed in the asylum. Conrad felt it bad for business if I were to been seen expecting especially when I was publically announced as engaged to him. It would be clear that it happened outside of marriage and that would be bad for business. We still had to keep up appearances for our usual father’s investors – even though their money was used for a different business entirely. They were told I did not handle father’s and sisters deaths well. No one knew where I really went.’

I was trembling still holding onto Thomas tightly who rocked me slowly. From the occasional sniffles I knew Thomas was equally upset.

‘Who was the father of your child Josephine?’

I started to cry once more. ‘I don’t know.’

Thomas held me even tighter and I curled against him unable to stop the onslaught of tears. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit scenes. Please read with caution.

Chapter Twenty-One

 

**Josephine’s POV**

 

I shamefully still half-expected Thomas to leave after sharing everything with him. It was embedded into me to think the worst outcome for every situation and this was proving a very problematic habit to overcome. Fearing this, I held him tighter, deeply curled against him and allowing his scent to drown my senses. I allowed myself this brief desperate gesture, fearing it would be over between us at any second. If this was to be the last time I held him, I wanted to remember him in detail.

_It was too much – too dark. How could he understand my disturbing relationship with my brother? How could Thomas understand what this relationship fostered? Hell, Thomas had every right to leave me. My family was beyond disturbing – it was monstrous._

And yet time went on. I remained nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped equally tight around me as his cheek lightly rested upon the top of my head.

‘The past is behind you now, my darling,’ Thomas whispered after what felt like an eternity paced between us. ‘You no longer have to deal with it alone.’

His simple words washed over me and set me crying again. I wanted to thank him, promise him my undying love and loyalty all as a means to express my gratitude. Instead all that I could say was ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, Josephine,’ he whispered tenderly. We stayed curled against one another, together finally forming a symbol which unified the negative, dark past with a positive bright future. The longer he held me closely the less broken I felt. It was as though he were moulding me back together, slowly, piece by piece.

After a while my tears lessened until they eventually stopped altogether and though exhausted I also felt somewhat relieved.

_Thomas knew now. He knew where it all begin._

Maybe now we could stop repeating our same argument. Maybe now we could move on. For the first time our marriage did not have this dark cloud looming over us. We went through the darkness together and held on to each other to wade through it.

I do not remember how long we stayed like that, holding each other and trying to stem the overflow of tears. It was becoming clear that I never would forget my past – those horrors were a part of me now, ones which I could never fully shed from my memory even if I wanted to.

What I do recall is Thomas holding me close to him so tightly I truly expected he would never let go. Every so often he would kiss my hair and inhale it deeply, occasionally making soothing noises but nothing ever more than a whispered hush. He seemed to be at a loss for words for once. So was I. He had no more questions or burning curiosity for me right now. For now, I had shared all I physically could with him. Any more than that would be tantamount to torture. He knew this and allowed me to grieve openly in his arms. It was painful to share and to also allow what I was feeling wash over me rather than block it out as I usually did. Yet Thomas was grieving with me. I did not feel alone.

***

In the aftermath of what I shared there was a significantly altered change between us. Our relationship had undergone a huge indescribable transformation. It allowed us to grow closer to one another and to talk openly. It was both a subtle and a huge difference, silent yet blaringly apparent between us. A chasm had been crossed which made me feel more vulnerable and yet more intimate with Thomas than ever – even more so than during the love we made. For I had shared a piece of myself no one else knew of. I exposed more than my body. I had bared my darkest self, I told of raw experience and memory as though I were exposing a gaping wound.

Time went by surprisingly quickly. We grew to truly enjoy each other’s presence and readjust how we understood one another. For Thomas was undeniably affected by what I shared. I became aware of another side to Thomas. His vulnerability increased tenfold as did his sensitivity. He lavished me with affection, with compliments, with cuddles and trinkets. When I told him to stop he simply rolled his eyes.

‘I want to give you all the happiness you deserve, darling,’ he would answer every time.

Other moments were more exposing. Every night he would ask that I undress before him, and he would do the same. Although I was initially nervous by this, he explained he wanted to see my body as it was. He wanted to know every inch and I did the same with his. Sometimes he would be saddened by a particular scar or burn on my skin and would press feather light kisses upon it as though they would heal the long-since inflicted damage. I hated to see him so overcome by emotion that he would be fighting tears by the time he looked at me once more. It was then that I would cherish him and hold him promising him that I was alright, that I no longer lived in the past.

Though we were regularly fully exposed to one another by night we never initiated any sexual acts. Occasionally, of course, our full scale nudity would reveal our desires but we ignored it. I firmly had no fear in lying with Thomas – our first time together had shown me he would do me no harm. I trusted him implicitly. And whilst I was ready to be with Thomas again, I think he needed more time. I may still suffer nightmares or some other lingering psychosis related to my past that would possibly be triggered by sex. I did not want Thomas to suffer or fear my night-terrors. We discussed this and decided we needed to form a plan to prepare for any possibilities of further night troubles from me. As a result of this conversation, we spent some time studying up on night-terror treatments by consulting some textbooks in the local university library and occasionally querying doctors – using a pseudonym as suggested by me as I did not wish to risk Conrad tracking us down. I relished in helping him and knew most of the libraries around and their access and lending policies all too easily since childhood. We would spend crisp autumn afternoons in the nearest park, or our hotel room when raining to read up on the condition. I knew it would help alleviate Thomas’ fears to have plan in place and I truly wished to help him.

Yet not all our time was spent studying. Quite often we spoke of the future, of our plans, our dreams and our desires. Largely we wished to travel, to learn other languages. I wished to spend more time on my music as I had not played in so long that I truly desired to practice it once more. Thomas wanted to dedicate more time to his workshop where he would tinker with and build toys, inventions and equipment from scratch. We both also wished to see more of the world and perhaps someday own a property abroad. We both grew feverish and near giddy with our dreams. For Thomas, like I, longed to get more from life. We fell into a routine, a comfortable stable routine where we talked and shared or simply studied in silence. I grew more in love with him and I think he was seeing another side to me. Planning a future – even if we had slightly lavish plans – gave us hope, stability and happiness. Yet it all came back to the same issue, our future, if to happen as we planned, needed funding. And the funding lay in Allerdale Hall. Thomas explained that he still desperately needed funding for his clay mine and I resolved to find a way to unlock my fortune to give to Thomas. After all, he was my family now and I would do whatever I could to aid our family. When I told him this he became overwhelmed with joy and for a brief moment I thought he yearned to have sex with me once more. But he seemed to pause slightly and ordered us champagne instead.

And so, Thomas and I found a solicitor to help us with all legal matters concerning my family finances. We discovered that in the eyes of the law Henry was still considered the sole heir to the Warren family fortune and that all the deeds of the businesses were still in his name and also in Conrad’s where their businesses where shared. Nevertheless, there was a loophole in the law that allowed intervention from immediate family if the said sole heir was in prolonged dire medical circumstances. Thus Thomas could temporarily direct businesses under Henry’s name but would need permission to do so with the shared other business holders. Thomas immediately agreed to take possession for the sole businesses in Henry's name but refused point blank to engage with business talks with Conrad. Despite our solicitor’s best efforts to convince Thomas he would not budge in his perspective. Frankly, I was not surprised. It was clear Thomas would never forgive Henry or Conrad for what they did to me. I hoped Thomas would never lay eyes on either of them again as there was a steeliness to his eyes when conversation ran in that direction. There was a burning hatred there that was unsettling yet understandable. Thomas would not visit Henry in hospital anymore since I revealed the truth to him. He was beyond livid with Henry and I knew it would be too stressful to for Thomas if I were to visit him. So I stopped going too. In a way, I felt free. Having no Henry around was a massive relief in my life. Henry showed no signs of fully regaining consciousness at the hospital so as the days wore on I found I cared less and less about who put him there. However, I checked in on him with his doctor and nursing team. Henry showed little signs of improvement. Whilst occasionally waking for brief moments he was not lucid or coherent. He showed little to no interest in what was going on around him and would usually be wake long enough to gurgle something before sleeping once more. The doctors recommended I send him to a facility to recuperate but told me they expected it was unlikely for him to ever fully recover. I agreed and Henry was sent to a nearby facility for treating head injuries. I have not seen him there either, nor do I plan to.

However, with medical advice suggesting the outlook for Henry was negative, our solicitor informed us should Henry pass away, we would gain his inheritance that father left him. Furthermore, should Henry remain permanently incapacitated then Thomas as my husband, could appeal to take full control of the businesses, even sell them of he wished, and also legally obtain Henry’s entire fortune as Henry had no certified heir. In order to do this, Henry needed to be spend at least another three months in his critical state and then have a doctor confirm that recovery was unlikely.

Thus we now had a slightly bigger income. Thomas would earn a monthly wage from Henry’s businesses. We also had the promise of a windfall too should Henry remain permanently ill or pass away, but I tried not to think on that too much. I may hate Henry, but I could not wish my brother dead, though he deserved to be lying on a hospital bed right now, I admit.

Our solicitor also informed us after some deeper digging into my family background and consulting with my deceased fathers previous solicitors that my father had arranged a dowry for me should I ever be married. That I was entitled to right away. Secondly, my father had set aside money to be split between his three children in case of his untimely death. However, because my sister had passed, the money would now be split between Henry and I. And lastly, my father had also set up a funds for any future grandchildren. As there was no legally declared children yet this money would not be released but I was nevertheless touched by his generosity. Even beyond the grave, my father was still surprising me. I succamb to tears as I left the solicitors office and Thomas became overwhelmed too. No doubt, Henry knew I was entitled to keep to this money but never informed me of it. Perhaps this is why he was eager to marry me off. Yet I tried to block this out and focus on my future – our future.

Suddenly Thomas and I had a nice nest egg for starting out our marriage. It would take a few months of forms and filing paper work for the money to come through but we were blessed to have funding to see us through. We had enough money to begin extensive restoration work at Allerdale Hall and begin mining work too in the clay vats. We may just have our dreams afterall. And there was also another bonus. If I ever had another child – Thomas’ child – it too would be provided for by my father and Thomas. My future was indeed changing. The world was becoming brighter.

***

In the following days, Thomas began ordering parts he needed for his clay vats. We went on a slightly crazy spending spree as he had control of my dowry. We purchased some new clothes for both him and I with the justification that we were the image of ‘The Sharpe’s Family Mine’ and needed to look the part. He bought Lucille some new dresses too. I thought it was very considerate of Thomas to treat his sister and tried to offer ideas on suitable colours and accessories for her. I hoped this might help Lucille and I get off to a better start this time around.

Soon we were arranging to return to Allerdale Hall and I found myself increasingly nervous about the prospect. Lucille, for one thing, unsettled me. She seemed cold and harsh but maybe now, that Thomas and I were married, she would be warmer to me. Perhaps she would understand now that her initial perception of me as a scarlet city woman was inaccurate and that I truly cared for her brother. And then there was my nightmares to think of which started again when at Allerdale Hall, but Thomas insisted he had would help me through them now knowing how after carrying out extensive research.

Yet there remained a deep-seated fear that I couldn’t quite articulate into words. _Was it Allerdale Hall? Why did that place disturb me so? Last time, I was unsettled because I was with Henry and he had triggered my nightmares. Surely there was no reason to truly fear the place? But then I remembered …_

_The tall woman with long, straggly, knotted hair that billowed behind her. She was willowy – no she was emaciated. Her neck seemed so brittle, so shockingly thin as though she was decaying as much as certain parts of the mansion itself where. Her dress hung limply off her tall narrow frame … she seemingly watched me where I lay._

This woman had appeared in my bedroom when I stayed with the Sharpe’s previously. And she had held me down in the bathtub too _._

_Had she? Was I delirious from stress then? Was it all a nightmare? The last time I saw figures like this was after my fathers and sister’s death. I had to be institutionalised then. But couldn’t that equally be a result of stress? Brought on by the various sexual assaults and my unexpected pregnancy. Surely it had to be? Surely the logical facts here indicate that stress causes me to experience these things._

Yet there was still an inexplicable sense of fear in me. Perhaps somehow, it was not Allerdale Hall I was scared of but the past catching up on me. That starting a home with Thomas was simply too good to be true and that Henry or Conrad would find me and would take me back. But Thomas would never let that happen. For I had my husband and he had me – what could possibly go wrong?

On the last evening before we began our journey the following day to Allerdale Hall, Thomas and I went to our favourite London park, one last time. It was getting cold now, winter was nearly here and you could already feel it in the air. But determined to visit our favourite spot one last time, we dressed warmly and set out. We sat in our usual spot, a picnic prepared earlier sat between us. I sat reading upon a bench beneath a large oak tree that had nearly completely shed its orange foliage. Thomas lay sprawled out, his long legs stretching across the picnic blanket, his back against the bark of the tree as he went over his latest inventory list of orders. I was savouring the last of the sun by leaning off the far end of the bench as it was likely the last of it to see before winter whereas Thomas was actively avoiding it. His skin burned easily and the light bothered his eyes. Every so often I would glance at him, this tall dark stranger looking out of place underneath a large oak tree with dwindling leaves. He looked so different since I told him what happened. He looked himself again – or newer even. His eyes were now filled with hope, his body a tad more filled out, no doubt due to the multiple good meals he was enjoying. He looked healthy and happy and I could not believe I had him all to myself. I had a mad desire to simply take him here and now. I looked away, my cheeks reddening slightly as this impulsive desire crossed my mind.

‘I’ll build you a balcony, darling,’ Thomas said suddenly, abandoning his inventory list to sit beside me on the bench.

I laughed setting my book aside as I looked to him. ‘Is that another one of your dreams, Thomas?’  I asked, setting my own book aside whilst unable to stop smiling at his giddy expression.

Thomas grinned coyly. ‘But I, being poor, have only my dreams,’ he said simply, his adorable blue eyes now catching mine so that I could not look away even if I wanted to. ‘I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread - ’

‘ – softly,’ I interrupted with a slight grin. ‘Because you tread on my dreams.’ 

‘Impossible woman!’ Thomas exclaimed his eyes widening slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ‘I thought for sure you would not know that one! How can I woo you when you already know all the greatest lines in literature?’

I couldn’t help but giggle. ‘Firstly, I don’t know all of literature. I just happen to like Yeats,’ I corrected him with a slightly dubious smile. ‘Secondly, we are married, Thomas. I think you wooing me is a tad unnecessary and frankly, a bit late. And finally, why on Earth do you plan to build me a balcony?’

Thomas’ laugh grew giddy the sound so strange and rare so that it was pure music to my ears ringing out from where we sat in the park. A few children who were climbing a nearby tree looked over at us curiously. Thomas kissed my cheek, causing the young boys to look away slightly disgusted as only children can by romantic affection. I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I plan to build you a large open balcony so that you can read outside,’ Thomas said. ‘And maybe have a garden up there too – our own private rooftop garden. I hear they have them in places like Milan. How does that sound, my lady?’

I grinned, trying to suppress my glee. ‘Impressive, Mr Sharpe,’ I agreed. ‘That’s quite an imagination you have. Maybe you ought to build a treehouse instead if we want complete privacy with an added sense of fantasy?’

‘Perhaps, I will build one of them too – for our children of course,’ Thomas replied, now watching the kids playing nearby with a slightly excited expression as he held my hand. ‘I mean – if the time ever comes for that.’

I nodded, swallowing thickly as my stomach seemed to suddenly drop. This was the only subject we barely touched upon. Thomas was undeniably dying to know and this was another reason he was possibly refusing to engage in sex, at least until he knew for certain. ‘Do – do you want children, Thomas?’ I asked, my mouth slightly dry.

Thomas looked at me once more, a slightly pained expression on his face. ‘Jojo, I know you have been through so much. I know the thought of going through another pregnancy terrifies you.’

‘It does,’ I admitted watching our interlocking hands. ‘But I’d be lying if I said I had not thought about it.’

‘You have?!’ Thomas exclaimed a happier look now on his face once again.

‘Of course,’ I confessed. ‘But I’m scared. What if it’s like before?’

‘Oh, darling,’ Thomas whispered, his hand now cradling my face. ‘I would be there. You would never be alone or sent away. I would never hurt you.’

‘I know,’ I answered. ‘But it was so scary before – the asylum, the treatments, the pregnancy felt so terrifying the entire time.’

‘So you don’t want another child?’ Thomas asked, looking crestfallen.

‘I don’t really know,’ I tried to explain. ‘I do sometimes and at other times I just get so scared at the thought. Maybe if there was no rush for now then in time I might adjust to the idea - only a year or so just to get used to the idea. How does that sound?’

Thomas pressed another soft kiss to my cheek. ‘If that’s what you want, Jojo, then I will wait. But what – what if you already are?’

I let out a low sigh. Truthfully the thought had crossed my mind but I refused to dwell on it. ‘Unlikely, it was only the one time,’ I answered quietly.

‘Sometimes once is all it takes, darling,’ Thomas pressed kindly.

‘I guess then - if I already am … then I’ll have no other choice but to come to terms with it earlier than expected,’ I said, my voice shaking slightly.

‘We both will,’ Thomas answered quickly. He wrapped around me as I pressed closer to him. Normally such public displays of affection were something we avoided but no one was even glancing our way. ‘I meant what I said. I will be there with you.’

I nodded once, trying not let fear overwhelm me but simply put all my trust in Thomas. ‘I guess we have to wait and see. But where does that leave us for now? I know you have been avoiding sex, Thomas,’ I whispered by his ear. He blushed immediately causing me to giggle.

‘I – I just didn’t think you would want to risk it,’ Thomas whispered, still blushing slightly. ‘It’s your body, but I don’t wish to make you go through possible damaging contraceptive methods.’

‘I want to be with you,’ I said truthfully. ‘I think it’s good for us to get to know each other that way. I think for now, our aim should be to we enjoy our time together. If it happens that I fall pregnant then … that’s our family started earlier than planned. I will trust you will be there for me if it happens.’

Thomas smiled. ‘I think you are being wonderfully strong about this. I’ll always be there for you. So -how about we enjoy our last night together before we travel back to Allerdale Hall?’

I grinned feeling slightly nervous, but mostly excited. ‘I’d think I’d like that.’

 

**Thomas’ POV**

_To hear Josephine say she was willing to possibly carry my child was both beautiful and utterly earth-shattering. Yet, I knew I was playing with fire now. For if she was indeed already pregnant or soon to be then this was a massive problem in both mine and Lucille’s plan. But what could I say? My wife both loved me and desired me and truth be told, I desired her. If I were to be completely honest I spent most nights going to the bathroom whilst Josephine slept soundly to relieve my hard member. Sleeping, naked, nevertheless, with Jojo was as wonderful as it was torturous. Her warmth both fuelled my desire and soothed me. It comforted me to know she was there. I could not go back to Allerdale Hall without taking her one last time. And surely the odds of her falling pregnant were small? And even if it did happen, I could find a way to keep Josephine safe and Lucille satisfied but for now I could only think of Josephine._

She was barely back in our hotel room before I was eagerly kissing her again. Unwilling to slow down I quickly picked her up and brought her to the bedroom.

‘I probably should have carried you across the threshold the night we got married,’ I said, trying to make her comfortable with an easy joke as I started to undress. However, she seemed as eager as I was, her skin flushed and eyes eagerly looking me over as she quickly began to undress. She struggled with her lower skirt and as soon as I shed the last of my clothing I knelt down before her on the bed, silently looking up at her and asking her permission. She smiled sweetly and nodded. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, sounding more curious than nervous.

‘Do you trust me?’ I asked her slowly raising her skirts to tug on her underwear. With a quick pull and lift her hips I had them removed.

‘Yes,’ she answered assuredly.

‘Then just lie back and enjoy this Josephine – I promise it won’t hurt,’ I vowed, looking her straight in her eyes.

She obeyed, lying back as her legs dangled over the bed.  

I kneeled between her legs and pushed her skirts up slowly around her hips. I began to kiss my way softly up her thighs, one of my hands gently tracing idle patterns on her opposite leg. I then carefully placed each of her legs over my shoulders and started to slowly kiss, suck and nibble her inner thighs. Her skirts half-shielded my face so I could not see her reactions and could only hope she would tell me if she felt any fear. But oh god, this little private cocoon I formed using her skirts was heaven. It was almost as though I was entering some private paradise - a personal paradise that narrowed this experience down to pure sensations; the sight of her already moistening cunt already twitching in anticipation, the sound of my own heavy panting along with Jojo's occasional gasps, the touch of her skin, the smell of her perfumed body and her sweet musk of arousal was heavenly and soon, oh soon, I would taste her. Licking my lips I set about my delightful task and took my time, allowing Josephine time to adjust and relax to my gentle affections. I slid my hand slowly from her thighs to trace across her mound and then slowly start tracing her outer lips. The heat – her heat made me moan and harden and I fought the urge to simply abandon her pleasure and simply touch myself and bring about my own satisfaction, or better yet, skip this play and sink into her with one quick thrust. I fought this mad desire knowing I promised Josephine I would teach her about pleasure. So I continued tracing her outer lips, absolutely thrilled to see they were already significantly moistened from pleasure, in fact near dripping. Her hips twitched slightly as I brushed off her clit and she softly cried out, the sound one clearly of surprise rather than fear. I bit down on my lip to stop myself gasping to her erotic sounds of pleasure and the sight of her heavenly womanhood.

I gently inserted one of my long fingers into her slowly. ‘So tight,’ I moaned pushing deeper into her warm, velvet heat. She tensed and let out a soft cry.

Immediately I removed my finger. ‘I’m just ensuring you’re slick, Jojo,’ I explained quickly, though it was slightly muffled by her skirt. ‘Will I stop?’

‘No..’ she said, but it sounded like a deep moan. ‘It’s just – different but good different. Please don’t stop.’

I couldn’t help but smile smugly, lowering my head closer to her hot core. My tongue lazily traced over her lips this time and gently parting her folds with my fingers, I slipped my tongue into her womanhood. She gasped this time in clear pleasure and I let out a deep moan.

_Fuck! This woman even tastes like heaven!_

I continued to gently work my tongue in and out until I added my index finger in too. I gently swirled it before adding a second finger. Josephine began to squirm beneath me as I started to feel her pleasure build. I could hear her little pants and moans which made me harder still. Knowing I had to speed this up or I wouldn’t last, I moved my tongue to her clit, the tip brushing it in slow, moving circles. She cried out now, a desperate sound, needy and guttural so that I moaned too. Her hands now clutched my hair as her hips seem to buck of their own accord against my mouth, she was clearly desperate for more. I continued to finger-fuck her in increasingly rapid thrusts and occasional scissor motions.

‘Thomas!’ she moaned, her voice cracking already as she felt her orgasm approach.

‘Just let it happen, Jojo,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t think, just feel.’

I continued faster then, lapping her clit, fingers pumping harder inside her. She moaned louder pulling my hair and digging her heels into my back as she neared her peak. Feeling suddenly brave, I gently nipped her clit so that all I could hear was her scream of pleasure as her orgasm tore through her. I moaned even deeper, lapping up every last drop of her pleasure as though I were a man parched of thirst. Her body, overstimulated continued to twitch and convulse around my fingers until I slowly removed them.

I set on the floor cross legged, eyeing Josephine’s panting recovering form as I slowly sucked the last of her juices off my fingers.

“You have no idea how good you taste,” I said quietly before joining her on the bed. She seemed dazed with pleasure and merely grinned, almost lazily taking off her skirt.

I kissed her softly, not wanting to rush her. However, she seemed calm and started kissing down my neck, nipping the skin here and there. She wrapped her arms around my back and I gently pushed her flat against the bed. She raked her nails softly up and down his back as I kissed each of her breasts softly. I then hooked one of my legs over her waist and I lined my cock against her entrance.

I pushed in, immediately feeling her relax her muscles rather than tense them thus I knew she was well prepared from her earlier orgasm. However her face looked slightly pained so I paused immediately but she encouragingly wrapped her leg around my waist, locking us even further together. I pressed my forehead to hers as I pushed in further, very slowly until, finally, I felt my hips snugly press against hers. I paused allowing her time to adjust until she nodded for me to continue, and so I slowly began pushing in and out. I began to moan in pleasure – her hold felt so tight and snug. Soon Jojo raised her hips in time with my thrusts and we found a nice rhythm. I then changed my angle slightly so that I was grinding deeper into her with each thrust. Her eyes closed and she gripped me even tighter.

‘Ughhh Thomas!’ she pleaded. ‘Don’t stop, please don’t stop!’

I couldn’t help but smile proudly at this, her body clearly ecstatic by my touches. I longed to explore her more, suck on her breasts that delightfully jiggled with every thrust of our hips. But I could not. I was close. And so was she.

Her face was sweaty and strands of hair flickering across her features. She was a vision to behold - a goddess, curvy and warm and her face looked as though it were on the cusp of pure enlightenment. _How could I resist this woman? Why did I think I ever could?_ She looked so close, her breath ragged, her body tightening.

‘Let go Jojo, let go,’ I encouraged. She did so and came hard, spasming around my cock so tightly as though she were squeezing life itself out of me. I gripped her hips tightly choking out her name as my hips faltered in rhythm. I groaned and my eyes flickered as I came, filling Jojo with spurts of my hot release.

For a brief moment, in the peak of my desire, a maddening yet intense desire washed over me.

_I desperately hoped she would get pregnant._

It was not based on any rational or logical thought but rather a primitive instinctual need, which I knew Jojo would hate me for even thinking, that being the need for control and for dominance. Not over Jojo but rather over her past. Imagine, a curvy Jojo fuller than usual, her middle ripe, swollen and utterly claimed by another and, best of all, her happy, to do so. For I would be there by her side - filled with pride. A pure relationship, a ‘normal’ relationship that produced a healthy and happy babe. And should Conrad or, miraculously, even Henry ever lay eyes on her then they would know she was mine and I hers. That I took her with pride and honour.

I continued to rock my hips against her ensuring she got every last drop of my seed I had to offer.

Once done I gently pulled out my softening cock. Jojo whimpered softly at the sudden loss of the full feeling.

I gently adjusted us so that her head was on my chest. I kissed the top of her head before pulling the blanket up over us. My arm wrapped around her, holding her close to me. ‘I love you,’ Jojo said drowsily.

I kissed the top of her head “And I you,’ I answered. ‘Sleep well, darling.’

Josephine was asleep within minutes, but I waited until her deep breathing began before I risked moving her. Truth be told I was far from sleepy. Sex with Jojo had proven once more to be bliss. I could not resist the fiery haired goddess. I tucked her in and let her sleep before I went to the desk nearby. Now, in silence and private I could write to Lucille. I would also be awake if Jojo had any similar nightmares or night walks.

 

 

 

_Dearest Lucille,_

_My dearest one, I miss you more than ever. These past few weeks without you have been tough. I delight that tomorrow I set out to you – to my one true home. It feels so long since I last saw your face and I desperately miss it so. Hopefully I will be home by the time you receive this, if not then know I am so close to being by your side once more._

_Your letters have kept me sane when sanity is scare. As you know Josephine shared some of her past and she is not coping so well since the truth came out. Do not be surprised if she seems shy or strange when we arrive. She is timid and distrustful by nature. I have promised to stand by her so do not also be surprised if she seems to gravitate towards me. It is only a protector role she longs for. She flinches at sudden movements, lacks an ability to communicate efficiently and despises any ties to her old life. She is a perfect candidate for our plan._

_Baring this in mind, I send you great news – our work at Allerdale Hall and the mines can continue! There is promise of funding all of which I will explain in person soon. I did it Lucille, I arranged it all myself! However, it is only conditional so long as Josephine stays with us. I promise you dear Lucy, it will be worth it. Our future is cemented through my new wife. However, Josephine remains distrustful and fears intimacy so we should tread delicately around her. As promised, I will explain this in more detail when I see you soon. However, I feel you may need to talk to her, woman to woman, upon our arrival as I fear she may have been involved in promiscuous acts as recent as three weeks ago with other men. Who knows what damage may already be inflicted upon her? Needless to say she possesses none of your courage or strength. For now she seems to suspect nothing of me and is still relieved to be out of her family home._

_My spirit will be uplifted to see your sweet face and it will give me great pleasure to hear your lovely voice. I sleep easy tonight knowing I will see you, my darling Lucy, very soon. I only wish you were here with me right now._

_I await your loving embrace and hope I did you proud._

 

_Know no matter the miles between us, I think only of you; we stay together forever, never apart._

_Lovingly yours,_

_Thomas._

 

 

 

 


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

The last few days travelling with Thomas to Allerdale Hall had been mostly heaven. Admittedly, the journey took far longer than expected due to the poor weather conditions that increased the further North we travelled. Yet what really delayed us was Thomas’ sudden unpreparedness. He seemed distracted the entire journey. Whilst he was still attentive and loving, he was also reserved, quiet and frequently lost in thought, especially during the day. As a result, he got train times mixed up or forgot his wallet, lost order forms or tickets and once he even slept-in claiming to have forgotten to order a wake-up call. I wondered if he was deliberately trying to delay our journey back to Allerdale Hall or if he was just under work-related stress as he had not only Henry’s businesses to direct but also had continuation of designs and equipment orders for the clay mine. No doubt he was trying to get used of this new work-life balance.

I did not berate him or scold him for the frequent mix up or delays, or the extra nights we stayed in hotels when we missed our train over another oversight. Instead, I laughed it off, merely enjoying the extra time we had alone together. Truth be told I was nervous about the return to Allerdale Hall so the extra nights together were a bonus for me.

However, during the night Thomas would shed his day-time distracted demeanour and instead spend his time seducing me, caressing me, pleasuring me and making love to me, with so much enthusiasm, so much care and love that I wanted our journey to never end. He would make my body sing with pleasure – time and time again. Yet there was a slight change in his love making, a little roughness to it that was not there the first few times we made love. His thrusts became slightly rougher, his hold upon me tighter, his groans near animalistic and his desire never fully sated. Whilst I tried to keep up with this, I was also a little concerned. He wanted sex constantly when we were not travelling. From the moment we entered our private room in the evening, to the moment just before we left in the morning he would want sex. I loved being intimate with him but his appetite was insatiable. I feared there was some deeper issue at play here for the closer we travelled North the rougher the sex became. He told me he was making the most of our being alone before his schedule for work took up most of his time at Allerdale Hall. I grew worried that at this rate I would fall pregnant before the year was out. When I voiced this concern Thomas suggested he would try to pull out before he spilled inside me but this only worked half of the time as he simply lost himself in the moment. And I, either in a pre or post-orgasmic daze, barely cared during sex but only after when I came to my senses once more.

On our final day of traveling I became nervous. So nervous I could barely sit still in our carriage. I kept touching my hair, ensuring the wild curls were still sleek and tamed by being pulled into an elegant knot. However, my hair always refused to be tamed for very long. Every so often a wild curl, determined to remain free, would break loose and I would have to pin it down again. I also kept fidgeting with my new dress, smoothing out the skirt and adjusting the top of it, trying but failing to hide my ample cleavage. A snigger from across my way made me pause.

I quickly glared at Thomas who then turned his quiet laugh into a racking cough. ‘Excuse me, darling. Dry throat,’ he explained, his voice quivering with amusement.

I scowled at him causing him to grin openly. ‘It’s not funny, Thomas!’ I sighed, once again trying to adjust the top part of my dress. ‘We’ll be arriving soon and my hair won’t sit still - it’s too damn curly. And this dress – it’s  - it’s too breasty, isn’t it?’

‘Breasty?’ Thomas queried, raising his voice so loud I’m sure the coachmen heard. He lapsed into more laughter.

‘You behave like a bloody child sometimes, Thomas,’ I responded, rolling my eyes. Yet I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling – he was after all, rather adorable when he went through a fit of laughter. ‘It’s what my sister used to say – some ladies are more “breasty than others”.’

Thomas shook with laughter. ‘Erm…’ he paused trying to gather himself. ‘I think you look every bit an elegant lady – one with ample erm … _breastage_ I happen to greatly admire,’ he added with a mischievous wink.

‘Thomas! At least try to take this seriously,’ I berated lightly. ‘Is the cut of the dress too daring? Or is it this new corset? It’s a bit restricting but at least I seem more ladylike in a properly fitting corset. Though it lifts my breasts a bit but I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. They’re not natural so high or together. Are they too distracting?’ I trailed off nervously staring at own my own breasts to judge if my outfit was too risqué or not.

Thomas lapsed into more laughter, this time with no sense of feigned remorse. ‘Jojo, the dress is beautiful. You are beautiful. But if you’re uncomfortable then take off the corset or something,’ Thomas answered calmly from across the carriage. We were almost at Allerdale Hall. The coachmen informed us we were only a short distance away and I was becoming increasingly agitated.

‘I can’t take it off Thomas,’ I snapped, desperately trying to pull the dress up again by slightly shimmying my hips and tugging the dress from the middle. ‘I want to make a good impression with Lucille this time around,’ I huffed, as I continued to try and adjust the dress. My eyes widened as I thought I heard the slight sound of tearing material and immediately panicked. ‘Oh fuck - no!’ I panicked, immediately letting the dress go.

‘Darling,’ Thomas replied reaching forward and taking my hands in his. He bit his lip softly – a sign that either he was deeply aroused or highly amused and I felt myself blush at whatever thoughts ran through his mind. ‘I know you are nervous but Lucille will welcome you regardless of the dress you wear. We are from the North after all. Attire is not so important to us up here. Erm…you might want to ease up on the swearing though – just a thought.’

‘Hmmmm, that might be hard. Swearing is just a dirty habit I picked up from Henry,’ I admitted, as his larger hands completely enveloped my own. ‘And if dress is not so important then why on Earth did you choose to wear your best new suit today – trying to impress Lucille, are we?’ I teased.

Thomas cheeks blushed a pale pink colour and he shyly looked at me, blue eyes desperate for my approval. ‘Do you think she’ll like it?’

I smiled sweetly remembering this puppy like need for praise was one of the endearing qualities I first fell in love with him for. I kissed the back of his hand. ‘She’ll love it. You look so handsome and modern, she mightn’t even recognise you.’ I eyed him over in his new suit. He had bought several new one’s last week and spent some time choosing which to wear for today. He seemed eager to impress Lucille too. His suit was jet black – the exact same shade as his hair which beautifully contrasted against his alabaster skin. It was also perfectly tailored and moulded to his body’s form. Unlike his old suit, this one was up-to-date and the latest fashion in London. His shirt was crisp, white and brand new also. He wore a silk black waistcoat and a new silver time piece which he would frequently check upon our journey. I wonder what Lucille would make of her modern looking brother – or would she even notice such things? I sighed again. ‘You look incredible. All you have to do is pick a suit and throw it on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to purchase dresses? The fittings, the alterations, the standing still for ages…and then there’s hair and make-up.’

‘Surely you are used to it by now?’ Thomas asked calmly, still not letting my hands go.

I shrugged and smiled. ‘When I was younger I occasionally played dress up with my sister but truthfully I had no interest in it. And I haven’t worn corsets properly in years. Nor have I had any say in my hair, make-up or dresses in some time either. It was all picked out in advance by Henry and usually my hair was styled by my maid …’My voice trailed off and an awkward silence passed between us.

‘It’s behind you now, darling,’ Thomas whispered and kissed my hands gently. ‘From now on you are your own woman. The dresses you picked out are all exquisite. But wear what you feel most comfortable in.’

‘Perhaps I’m not used to wearing corsets or such low cut dresses. But the designer in London insisted it was the latest trend,’ I explained sighing quietly. ‘I feel like I shouldn’t be wearing such pretty clothes.’

‘But they are beautiful,’ Thomas insisted. ‘Are you sure there is nothing else bothering you?’

‘It’s just strange. All of this – the move, leaving behind Henry, London, even my old clothes, I guess it’s a little overwhelming. I don’t want anything to go wrong,’ I admitted. ‘I – I don’t want to be the same whore just in new dresses.’

‘Stop it Jojo,’ Thomas snapped. ‘How many times? You were _never_ a whore. The past was not your fault.’

I looked at him in uncertainty wondering if he was cross or annoyed by my expression. Suddenly I felt sheepish and looked away. Perhaps sensing my nervousness, Thomas stood up and nestled himself beside me in the carriage. I looked sideways at him and he offered me his roguish smile. ‘I’m not upset with you. I just want you to see the beautiful woman that you are. Think of this as an adventure Jojo,’ he said, wrapping his long arm around me and kissing my cheek. ‘A whole new beginning – just you, I and Lucille.’

I nodded, smiling broadly and leaned against Thomas. This was so different to the last journey I had to Allerdale Hall where I bickered with Henry the entire way. That thought boosted my confidence. ‘A new start,’ I agreed catching a glimpse of the mansion finally emerging across the barren landscape. Thomas and I both stared at the house in silent thought. His body seemed to tense slightly beneath me and I suddenly felt guilty. He must be so excited to be finally going home and I did not want to ruin it for him. ‘Just think what a difference a few years here will make,’ I added smiling up at him thoughtfully. ‘Who knows what changes will take place?’ He smiled almost shyly at me before we both turned our gaze towards the house once more.

The snow was thick and heavy significantly slowing our progress as the carriage trundled on towards the house. Yet the closer we got the more apprehensive I grew, my gaze fixated on the mansion which stood out boldly against the dull sky. Despite me best efforts I couldn’t quite let my restlessness go. _Was it Lucille I was anxious to meet or was it the return to this house. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something amiss here. Something unsettling. Or was that because it was Henry with me at the house the last time I stayed?_

The land surrounding was white from the falling snow but the more I stared I realised there was patches dotted across the land near the house almost an orange or red colour. The sight was slightly disturbing as though blood had been spilled on the pure white snow.

‘What – what are those markings on the snow, Thomas?’ I asked, unable to stop staring at them as we passed the iron rusting gates and proceeded to make our way up the driveway.

‘Hmmm? Oh those markings? Yes they are rather horrid, aren’t they?’ Thomas answered, seemingly briefly a little distracted with his own thoughts. ‘They are a rather unfortunate side effect of the clay pits, I’m afraid. It happens every year when the snow falls. It’s the ore and the red clay leaching up from the mine and they stain the snow red. The locals call it Crimson Peak.’

‘Crimson Peak?’ I repeated unable to tear my gaze away from the patches of tainted snow. ‘It’s – it’s rather - ’

‘ – ghastly?’ Thomas suggested bluntly and I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Not to worry Jojo, I hope to fix it soon. My new design will limit such leakages and over time they will fade completely. I can’t for my orders to come through. I can finally build up the Sharpe family name again.’

‘The money should come through in a few weeks – ten at most,’ I explained once more. ‘Until then we have the dowry and your share of Henry’s businesses. That should be enough to get going with the mine and the restoration work.’

‘Just think,’ Thomas said, a clear note of glee in his voice. ‘Our future – our dreams, all stem from that clay.’

The carriage finally slowed down and came to a complete stop. Thomas opened the door and offered me his arm which I accepted gratefully. I stepped out into the snow driveway, trying to avoid the crimson stains that splattered the ground here and there. Now that I was close up to the stains, they looked so much like blood that it made me uneasy. Thomas wrapped my coat around my shoulder.

Last minute jitters seemed to set in and I started shivering. ‘How do I look, Thomas?’ I asked as he put on his own coat and hat.

‘Every bit the blushing newlywed,’ Thomas answered, smiling coyly. ‘Very breasty too,’ he added in a whisper causing me to blush even more.  

‘Lucille will have the fires lit,’ Thomas explained, helping the coachmen to unload our luggage. ‘It’ll feel nice and warm inside. Then I’ll show you to our room first - ’

‘What about Lucille?’ I asked, shivering slightly on the cold air.

‘Oh yes, I’ll introduce you both once more,’ Thomas conceded, yet did not look at me as he continued to unload the carriage.

I frowned slightly and turned to look at the mansion. It had been weeks since I last laid eyes upon Allerdale Hall it was still utterly breath-taking. Its vastness was almost over indulgent, too splendous and seemed to lean over me in an intimidating, oppressive manner. I suddenly pictured it as some fantastical beast with a life of its own. _A dragon perhaps?_ I noted dryly as I spotted some smoke curling from a chimney. _An utterly enchanting, if slightly archaic dragon._ _The smoke from the chimney was therefore what? The beasts warning – do not get too close?_ I shook my head trying to drown out such childish thoughts. Instead I focused on the impressive gothic architecture of the building. A small castle like structure of dark stone work, three to four stories high with one central tower and two taller towers flanking on its left and right. These taller towers had conical tops which gave its subtle appearance of a small castle. Flying buttresses enhanced either side of the taller towers which extended the mansion’s sides into a north and south aisle. The many windows were in geometrical panes and each had slightly different designs in their tips ranging from crosses to flowers. However, it was clear that some of the mansion was in need of desperate repair. The towers were chipped in many places and the top far left of the mansion appeared to be crumbling slightly. _In the coming months that will all be fixed_ , I noted with a sudden burst of pride. _Perhaps then this intimidating mansion would feel more like home._

My eyes slowly drifted to the manor’s double oak doors. I smiled coyly remembering briefly that was where I first ever laid eyes on Thomas. He seemed so nervous then and shy. Though it was only weeks ago, it truly felt like years. I glanced at the ruby red ring on my finger – _so much has changed_. I half-expected for Lucille to be waiting by the door to greet us but there was no-one. I felt slightly annoyed by this. Surely she heard us approach or was at least keeping an eye-out for our arrival.

‘I expect Lucille is inside,’ Thomas said as the coachman carried our luggage up the steps. ‘So Jojo, what do you think? Is it nicer the second time around?’

My gaze was focused to the impressive mansion once more. ‘I can’t believe this is your home,’ I answered.

‘Our home,’ he corrected me with a smile.

‘Our home,’ I repeated as my eyes fell onto the circular window of the central tower of the mansion which was a crimson with a black core. _The red eye of the beast_. I expected to see some shadow pass it by but there was nothing. Nothing, only the flicker of grey. _A candle burning beneath the window perhaps?_

‘Allow me?’ Thomas asked and without waiting for an answer he scooped me into his arms in one clean swoop and carried me up the gravel driveway and across the threshold of his new house. He then set me down, a jovial smile across his face. ‘Welcome home, Mrs Sharpe.’

I giggled in response. ‘You too, Mr Sharpe.’

I stepped further inside the house and unsurprisingly was still enamoured by its interior design. The foyer seemed even bigger than the last time I had seen it. As I proceeded even further into it, I was still struck by the dark wooden staircase that begun on the left side of the foyer and wound its way to the third floor in an almost dizzying manner. Countless framed paintings hugged the right wall as the stairs ascended, and the central section of the second floor staircase projected outwards to form a magnificent balcony. However, beyond that was a large gaping hole in the ceiling that allowed us to see the sky outside and for snow to flurry into the house and collect in the foyer.

‘It’s beautiful’ I confessed. ‘Though it needs some work.’

‘And just imagine, in a few months it will start to feel homelier,’ he nodded at the leaf strewn floor. Darkening leaves seemed to be collecting in every corner of the foyer and had been blown across the floor by the wind upon our entry, giving the house a rather untamed feel. ‘Now why don’t we find Lucille?’ Thomas added, helping me shed my coat before removing his own. He tipped the coachmen before thanking him and shutting the heavy oak doors.

A prickle of unexplained fear rippled throughout my body as I watched Thomas enclose us in this house – _in the belly of the beast itself_. For a daft moment, I thought of fleeing the house. _But where would I go?_

‘It’ll be alright,’ Thomas said smiling slightly before turning his back and walking through the foyer and making for the kitchen. I trailed behind him nervously, feeling a little like a lost child.

‘Thomas!’ I heard a woman cry out with an almost desperate need the moment we entered the kitchen.

‘Lucille!’ Thomas called back, immediately quickening his pace towards her. My vision of Lucille was cut short by Thomas hugging her closely. They hugged each other tightly, seemingly melting into the others arms as though they thought they never would see the other again. I watched with a pang of envy as the siblings hugged. Henry and I had never been that close.

‘You’re late,’ Lucille called over Thomas shoulder, lifting her head slightly to look up at me.

I swallowed thickly and watched as they separated. My attention was solely focused on Lucille. She still had a formidable aura about her. She was equally as beautiful as her brother, with deep black hair that was in in an elegant knot at the back of her head. She also had his high cheekbones and porcelain skin, but I also noted faint scars on her cheeks and one particularly long one running down her neck, past the collar of her dress. Her dress, though out of fashion was elegant, giving her form a lithe appearance was also keeping her sufficiently covered.

I suddenly became self-conscious about my appearance as she looked me over and feebly tried to smooth my hair. Undoubtedly she could see a few scars of my own and I suddenly wished I wore one of my older dresses that hid my scars. This new dress was far too daring and I could feel my cheeks burn as Lucille’s glaze lingered, her dark eyes stared at me coldly. ‘We were unexpectedly delayed,’ I explained, my mouth feeling suddenly dry. ‘The bad weather slowed us up significantly. Trains were delayed, carriages refused to run until a storm passed - ’

‘And yet, Thomas’ letter made it here a full two days before you did,’ Lucille said in her usual dry blunt tone.

I glared at her now, annoyed by her rude tone and unsympathetic welcome. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to snap at her and instead forced a smile. ‘Lucille, I realise we got off to a bad start the last time we met. But now well – you’re my sister, aren’t you?’ Lucille didn’t answer so I quickly continued. ‘I think in time we could become friends too. Soon your house will be restored and filled with warmth and love.’

There remained a cold look in her eyes and I shivered slightly under her stare. This woman unsettled me deeply and my speech seemed to do little to win her over. She raised her eyes a slight look of disbelief on her features. ‘Warmth would be an excellent start. Thomas, your bride is frozen,’ Lucille stated, eyeing my shivering form distastefully.

  
‘Of course. Forgive me, Josephine,’ Thomas answered quickly stepping aside. ‘Let's go upstairs, I'll start a fire at once. I'll run you a hot bath too. Whilst you warm up, Lucille and I will catch-up on things that occurred during my absence.’

‘Present yourself at dinner at seven sharp,’ Lucille said briskly turning her back on me once more as she busied herself with filling a kettle. Thomas gently brushed Lucille’s shoulder, a gesture I watched with curiosity. She slowly turned to face me as Thomas gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘I’ll bring you up some tea after your bath,’ Lucille added a faint smile on her lips that did not quite meet her eyes. ‘Perhaps then we could start to get to know one another. Although Thomas has filled me in a good deal about your past.’

I through a staggering, heartbroken glance at Thomas who looked at Lucille with a bemused stare. He then glanced at me, his eyes slightly fearful. ‘Follow me Josephine,’ Thomas said, avoiding my stare altogether.

Thomas left the kitchen just as Lucille offered me a rare smile. Her dark eyes narrowed and were undoubtedly full of malicious intent.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-three

 

I met Lucille’s stare defiantly, refusing to buckle even though I was blushing furiously. _If she didn’t want to try for Thomas’ sake to get along then so be it. But I’ll be damned if I were going to leave one bullying household to enter another._

‘Do you have a problem with me, Lucille?’ I said suddenly, causing her eyes to widen with surprise. I heard Thomas make his way back into the kitchen and felt his grip upon my arm.

‘Nonsense,’ Thomas answered, gently tugging my arm. ‘You’re tired after the journey, dear. A bath and a rest perhaps - ’

I pulled my arm out of his grasp. ‘I believe I was talking to your sister, Thomas,’ I snapped and then glared at Lucille who looked briefly baffled by my boldness. Undoubtedly Thomas was looking at me with the same sense of disbelief. ‘I asked, if you had a problem with me, Lucille? Out with it. We might as well clear the air now, rather than foster potential future resentments between us.’

Lucille cocked her head to the side, seizing me up as though I were a mere fly and she the spider ready to attack. ‘Why would I have a problem with you, my dear?’ she asked sweetly, a slight smile appearing on her features. ‘I welcomed you, have I not? I think Thomas is right. You’re merely tired after a long journey - ’

‘You have not welcomed me. You have merely made a snide comment about my past and looked at me in a cold stare as though I am an eyesore in your otherwise impressive home. I want to know why?’

Lucille smiled even more now, but it was menacing as though she was going to enjoy whatever she said next. ‘You should rest. I would hate for us to fall out so soon because you are feeling unwell, or … paranoid. Are you feeling a tad _crazy_ today maybe?’

‘Lucille!’ Thomas cried out aghast.

I held up my hand, indicating Thomas should stop speaking. ‘Are you referring to my institutionalization at the City of London asylum?’ I asked her calmly. Again my bluntness caused Lucille to look baffled once more. She clearly assumed she would hurt me once more by bringing up my past to embarrass me. I used her temporary stunned silence to continue quickly. ‘I assure you I am quite sane,’ I said in the same calm tone. ‘In time, I’m sure you will see that. If it is your safety you fear for, rest assured I will do you no harm. Now do you have any other remarks you wish to make before I leave?’

Lucille fell silent and glared at me as though she was visioning my impending doom. I swallowed but gave no other sign of fearing her. ‘Seven p.m.’ Lucille spat out before turning her back on me. ‘We have our ways in this home. You must quickly learn them, child.’

‘Come on, Josephine,’ Thomas said before I could respond. ‘I’ll run you a bath.’ He quickly exiting the room avoiding both our stares.

Just as I turned to follow him, Lucille quickly turned and grabbed my arm. ‘Listen,’ she hissed under her breath. ‘You know not how this house works. No scarlet woman with a history of lunacy will come in here and humiliate me. I run things around -’

‘Why does my past frighten you so?’ I quickly responded, trying to shrug out of her bony grip.

‘You’re crazy,’ she answered breathlessly, coming uncomfortably close to my face. ‘You will not spread your madness or I will - ’

‘What?’ I asked abruptly. ‘You’ll what, Lucille? I’d be wary, if I were you,’ I spat out suddenly, pulling out of her grip. ‘A friendly reminder that you’d be a damn fool to threaten a crazy person.’

She lapsed into silence, unable to think of a response, just as Thomas peeped into the room, his eyes roaming between us cautiously. ‘I’ll see you at seven,’ I added with a false cheery smile. ‘I’m so glad we cleared the air between us.’

I quickly turned before she responded and Thomas followed. ‘What did you say to her?’ Thomas asked quietly as we passed through the house.

‘I wanted to clear the air,’ I responded with a shrug, though my heart was racing. I had no idea what made me stand up to Lucille but I felt proud I had done so. ‘Quite boring, really.’

‘Oh,’ Thomas answered sounding slightly relieved. ‘Did you sort out the tension between you both?’

I nodded. ‘Oh, I imagine we both know where we stand with each other now.’

Thomas groaned. ‘Jojo, what did you say? Did you upset Lucille?’ he asked in a concerned whisper. ‘It’s hard for her, you know. Us newlyweds and her alone - ’

‘She started it Thomas!’ I retorted. ‘And I know she’s your sister, but you have to find a balance between us. She cannot say whatever she pleases to me just to gage my reaction. She talks about my past like it’s a damn game. I refuse to be bullied again, Thomas!’

‘Josephine, I - it – it’s hard,’ Thomas answered slowly as though choosing his words carefully. ‘I don’t want to upset her - ’

‘I understand that Thomas, but honestly, shying from the tension between us will not fix it,’ I rambled feeling annoyed by his passive attitude. ‘You must find a way to talk her around. She obviously has no problem bossing you around and just expects that I will follow suit. She’s being a bitch!’ I immediately paused as Thomas glared at me. Clearly I had went too far and Thomas looked furious. I apologised at once but he ignored it. We both lapsed into silence as I followed him upstairs.

Whilst knowing Thomas was angry now, my mind still felt somewhat conflicted by my familiar surrounding which were a sign of comfort and yet slight apprehension. In this house I had met my husband but also faced some unexpected terrors. Any second now I felt I would see some shadow, some unexplainable presence lingering in the halls. But there was nothing. _Why did this scare me more?_ Thomas was unusually silent so I made no attempt to voice my fears to him for fear he would grow worried. I tried to focus on the paintings on the walls as we ascended the stairs, which were still covered in a fine layer of dust. The paint on the walls were still faded and chipped away and the further we climbed up the stairs the more the original dark blue-green colour of the walls completely peeled away into a dirty golden colour. Thomas led the way to the second floor and instead of turning right like the last time I stayed here, he turned right down a separate corridor I had never been down before.

‘Our room is just down here,’ Thomas explained as he led the way down the darkening corridor. His tone was clip, almost irritated. However, my attention was on my surroundings. The corridor was, I noticed, by the faded candle light, a longer corridor but equally eerie. It had similar gothic arches at regular intervals, however the exterior of each arch had triangular edges, which looked like rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. The sight unsettled me but I tried to ignore the fear. After all I had stayed in far worse places over my lifetime.

Thomas stopped at the end of the corridor. ‘This is our bedroom,’ he said and opened the door whilst standing aside to let me pass through first. I stepped in warily finding myself curious about seeing Thomas’ bedroom for the first time. After all, he was a very private person. There was a large oak four poster bed in the middle of the room from which hung dark teal velvet curtains. The bed looked huge and was beautifully made up. Golden and teal pillows gave it an inviting and comforting appeal. In fact, the bed was so perfect, it was almost like a stage, placed perfectly in the centre of the room and was the most immediate striking feature when you stood in the doorframe as I just was. At the far right of the room there was a large bookshelf, stretched from ceiling to floor. There was also a door that led to the bathroom. At the far left of the room there was a desk, littered with papers, letters and some sketches. A small chair sat underneath it. Just above the desk there was a large bay window that stretched wide from floor to ceiling. The dark curtains were wide upon revealing the billowing snow outside. A bright fire burned away in the fireplace to my immediate left. Overall the bedroom had a lived-in, personal feel to it.  

‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, a soft smile on my lips as I saw how the room really reflected Thomas' quiet, subdued yet highly intelligent nature.

Thomas however, shrugged impassively. ‘I’ll bring up your luggage shortly,’ he explained. ‘There is also a bathroom, just through that door. I can draw a bath if you like?’ he offered but there was no warmth to his tone and he stood awkwardly by the door, looking almost eager to leave me.

‘Thomas, I am sorry,’ I repeated. ‘I am merely annoyed by Lucille. I should not have called her a bitch.’

He looked at me coldly, the resemblance to his sister rather frightening for a moment.

I swallowed thickly. ‘Please forgive me?’ I asked stepping closer to him. Again all I received in response was the distasteful look that made his blue eyes seem rather frightening. ‘Look I merely wanted Lucille to understand I will not be bullied. Perhaps I took it too far. I’ll make it up to you – both of you, I promise.’

Thomas looked slightly relaxed, the burning glare fading to form a look of understanding. However, he still was angry, I could tell by his stiff body language. From now on, I would remember to never speak ill of his sister, clearly it was a sore point for him. ‘How about I make it up to you right now?’ I offered boldly.

Thomas’ cheeks blushed and I laughed. ‘Come on dear, you are blushing furiously for a man who seemed thoroughly bent on pleasure the last few days.’

‘Lucille will be waiting for me, downstairs,’ Thomas murmured. He seemed suddenly shy and for some reason that irritated me. In fact, he seemed almost more … reserved now that we were back here _. I forgot how shy he could be. This was the same man who saved me from Henry’s clutches. Yet now he was bordering on full-blown recluse. Why did Lucille change him?_ Then it dawned on me – _clearly she was used of being the dominant sibling, one who made the choices and had the power._

‘Come on darling, please?’ I begged closing the door slowly behind us and gripped his hand. ‘Lucille thinks you are running my bath anyway,’ I explained. ‘I need you, or are you incapable of pleasuring me?’

Thomas looked conflicted and for a moment I thought I had spoken too boldly and that he would leave. But he grinned a rather dark smile, that made me shiver. ‘Alright then – but we must be very quick and quiet.’

No sooner had I nodded in agreement than Thomas had me lifted into his arms and carried me across to the large writing desk, just beneath the window of the room. He kicked the chair aside and with one clean sweep he knocked all the papers that littered the desk to the floor before settling me unto it. I bit my lip to stop my squeal of surprise at his urgency. He quickly tugged his pants slightly down. I wondered briefly why he didn’t choose the bed but barely had time to consider this as he was now lifting up my dress skirts, tugging my knickers down before entering me in one swift thrust that instantly hurt and had me cry out at once. However, Thomas had his mouth pressed to mine and swallowed my cry with his ferocious kissing. He barely noticed my discomfort and continued to fuck me with an almost angry ferocity as though he couldn’t come soon enough or quick enough. It was only when rasped out ‘Stop! You’re hurting me!’ did he immediately still his hips.

‘Sorry, Jojo,’ Thomas whispered, peppering my face with kisses. His manhood was still firmly lodged deep within me. Though it usually felt nice, right now, I was too uncomfortable. His rough thrusts and urgency had hurt and startled me. ‘I thought I would try something new and quick.’

“I wasn’t ready,’ I answered, shaking slightly as I gripped his shoulders. “I just need time – to warm up.”

Thomas looked utterly devastated. “I’m sorry – I thought you were – I – I thought it best to be quick,’ he cajoled, palming my cheek with his hand delicately. “I’m so, so sorry. Did I hurt you, darling? Do you want to stop?”

I paused. I loved making love to Thomas, I loved the dizzying pleasure he gave me, but this was beyond anything he ever had done. It was as though I was making love to a stranger which sickened me at once. Desperate to feel my real Thomas I answered softly. ‘Just go – go slower,’ I encouraged. ‘And deeper.’

Thomas nodded, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I kissed back slowly, slightly dazed by what had just happened. _He hadn’t meant to hurt me, he just got carried away, by urgency, by lust - I know not._ Slowly I felt him move within me again, flexing his hips with the slowest, sensual of movements, gradually going deeper which each thrust. It only took a few thrusts until I came, my body tightening around him as I gave a soft whimper of satisfaction. Thomas’ own soft cry soon followed and we both lay panting for a moment before he slowly pulled out.

I remained seated on the desk, feeling a little confused by what had happened. It was by far the quickest sex we ever had only lasting a few bare minutes, with no foreplay or build-up. _I couldn’t decide if I enjoyed it or not. But I did orgasm right? And Thomas said that that only happens when you feel pleasure so I must have felt pleasure._

I realised I was shaking slightly and quickly fixed myself up again. Thomas did the same, quickly adjusting himself so that not seconds later we both looked as though nothing untoward had occurred at all. Thomas’ hand was soon palming my cheek, a regretful look etched into his features. ‘Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?’ he asked.

I shook my head not wanting to upset his guilt-ridden conscience further. ‘I’m fine. Just surprised – I wasn’t expecting the erm urgency – or the roughness. What has gotten into you Thomas?’

Thomas sighed. ‘I want to make the most of our time but with Lucille – it might be difficult. I thought if we were quick…’ his voice trailed off into uncertainty.

‘But we’re married Thomas,” I said, confused. ‘Surely Lucille knows this and will give us privacy. I still understand you have a special bond but so do you and I.’

Thomas looked pained for a moment. ‘Lucille – Lucille does not understand relationships – intimate relationships upset her.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice.

He shook his head seemed unable to speak. ‘Thomas if it’s too delicate you can wait until you are ready to share this,’ I said truthfully, knowing how difficult it can be to discuss some things.

‘You should know. She – well, she had a hard life Jojo,’ Thomas answered brushing a strand of hair from my face. ‘She practically raised me as a child. But when I was twelve our mother died – father had already passed away a few years before that. Lucille found my mother’s body. She was only fourteen at the time. She discovered mother in the bathtub. Blood everywhere … the sight was just too much for a child to see … ‘

I clasped my hand over my mouth, not expecting such a raw and graphic answer. ‘Oh, poor Lucille!’ I whispered, absolutely horrified and feeling tremendously guilty for my earlier behaviour. ‘What – what happened to your mother?’

‘She was murdered – an – an intruder,’ Thomas said, looking away now, his eyes lost in the horrifying past. ‘A burglary gone wrong. You hear of such things. Anyway, Lucille was never the same after that. Seeing the body of your murdered mother … it’s too much for anyone.’

‘What happened to her – to you both - after she found your mother?’ I asked, feeling heartbroken for Lucille but realising it explained so much about her behaviour.

‘I was placed in a boarding school. But Lucille – she had seen far too much. It affected her. She was institutionalised, Jo,’ Thomas answered, his eyes filling as he stared into my own once more. “Just as you were. I tried to keep us together then but I was only a boy. She was kept there until she came of age – six years later.’

I felt my heart tear. ‘Six years?’ I repeated, aghast, wondering how she even survived so long in there for that length of time. 

Thomas nodded, tears running openly down his cheeks. ‘She was put under electro-therapy, she was isolated, she was beaten and abused – for six years,’ he choked out.

‘Oh Thomas,’ I opened my arms and allowed Thomas to cuddle against me. He did so, nestling against my breasts. I cuddled him close and tried to soothe him. His distress physically hurt me and I was desperately trying not to cry too. I also realised why Thomas seemed so upset I had insulted his sister – he was protective of her and rightfully so. His sister and him had a special bond and I mentally vowed I would never insult her so crudely again. Lucille had been harsh on me as a means of coping with her pain. Undoubtedly she found trust her and relationships harder. I would double my efforts to be nice to her in the future.

‘When she came out she was different,’ Thomas continued as I rubbed his back. ‘She was colder, more distant. I know she may seem rude or strange but she trusts only me in the whole world.’

‘I understand,’ I whispered, kissing the top of his head. ‘I’ll be nicer to her in the future. I promise.’

Thomas looked up at me, his brilliant blue eyes swimming in tears. “You mustn’t tell her I told you.”

‘I won’t, darling,’ I vowed, hushing him gently. ‘But she can share if she wishes too in time. She knows I have been in a similar situation.'

‘Jojo, she would be so angry with me,’ Thomas said, crying fresh tears. His eyes widened and he looked fearful. ‘I do not know what she would do if she knew I told you.’

‘I won’t tell her,’ I promised solemnly. ‘I won’t. Hush now sweetheart. I will not break my word.’

‘Thank you,’ Thomas whispered, straightening himself out and sitting upright. ‘It’s been such a secret to carry all these years.’

‘I can imagine,’ I replied, my heart broken for my husband.

We fell into silence once more for a few moments until Thomas composed himself.

‘Thank you darling,’ Thomas answered. ‘I’m afraid I really must go now. Lucille will be wondering where I got to. Take a bath, rest. I will call you before dinner.’

I wanted to ask him to stay but I after everything I heard I knew I could not. I smiled. ‘Go, speak with her.’

Thomas gave me a tender kiss before he left the bedroom. Though I knew I should bathe I felt wired. Thomas rarely spoke about his childhood and at least now I knew now. What child deserves to see such graphic violence? I eventually got up from the desk and lay down in the bed trying to make sense of poor Lucille’s past but it wasn’t long before the travels of the last few days caught up with me and I fell asleep, trying not to picture the sight of Lucille funding her mothers butchered body in the bathtub all those years ago.

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

 

Time went by in a strange way in Allerdale Hall. Perhaps it was because of the location of my new home. The North of England was very different to London. It had a wilder, more threatening yet eerily quiet quality about it. The weather was much harsher too and unforgiving in its bitter coldness that took one’s very breath away. The coming of winter meant days were short, nights were long and there was a constant chill in the air which was quite often accompanied by a shrill scream of the wind. Or perhaps, it was Allerdale Hall itself which distorted any sense of time. It was hard not to feel a range of emotions from fear, loneliness and curiosity in this large, partially dilapidating mansion which seemed to be a living creature - a creaking, groaning, screaming, scratching creature. This eerie atmosphere warped my perception of time. Weeks trickled by in a manner most unusual as though time itself ceased to exist in the confines of the home. After a while, I began to think that the house seemed to consume me, made me feel claustrophobic and oddly, powerless.

Yet, for all its faults, I tried to keep very busy in Allerdale Hall in an effort to make the most of my new life and home. The last time I was here I was almost a different person. I only had Henry along with my fears and my mental health which made my experience here unbearable. I was then terrified of the noises and shadows within the old building. To counter this, I made a mental vow to myself to not succumb to my hysterical or irrational fears again. It was easier, admittedly, now that Thomas was in my life. It wasn’t having a husband that soothed me when I felt uneasy, but rather having a best friend to whom I could share anything. In that knowledge I was slowly adjusting to my new life for I felt safe when Thomas was at my side. It was the feeling of security that got me through even the roughest of days.

Some days went by quickly. I became swept up in a range of activities, including cleaning the house. This proved to be an immensely difficult task. Even weeks later I had barely scratched the surface of what appeared to be generations of dust. I made slow work through the living room, library and minimally began work in the foyer. All of this, I did alone for Lucille showed little interest in helping. I intended to go through the house room by room and give the place a good cleaning but Lucille had still to give me the house keys. Quite often, Lucille would retreat to her room for days at a time. Thomas stated she needed this time to relax and adjust to my presence. Personally, I felt she wanted to avoid me though why, I did not truly know. After all, we were family now. And it were best we get along, for Thomas' sake if nothing else. I also had to finalise all legal matters from my family business' and from my father's will. Finally, I frequently helped Thomas when he needed to talk through his latest invention or idea for the mine. This meant by the end of most days, I fell to sleep quite easily, had few nightmares, did not sleepwalk or indeed see any shapes or shadows.

Other days, time seemed to suspend altogether. These days made me wonder if Allerdale Hall was real at all and not perpetually suspended in some horrid form of limbo. For quite often I grew bored by my new dull routine as a housewife and cleaner. This was partially due to my difficulty in adjusting to life in the North in general. Here there was nothing; no noise, no shops nearby or acres of green parks, or beautiful theatres by which to create my own entertainment. I had nowhere to go to when bored, and worse yet, I had little chance to read or play music. It felt lonely and at times, I found myself missing the hustle and bustle of London. All I could do was my chores and began to fixate when I would spend time with Thomas. It was, on some days, a dull and deadening routine and all I had was the promise of my husband’s company having spent most days alone.

Thomas was typically busy during the day, working away below in the vats below in the basement, or on the machine itself outside. Though he made an effort to spend what time he could with me, typically in the early hours of the morning, just before work or in the mid-afternoon, when Lucille would nearly always retire for a nap. Quite often when Lucille did this Thomas would spend his lunch hour with me indoors either us lightly dozing telling the other about our day, or else, deeply entwined, far too busy enjoying each other’s bodies to talk or eat. I treasured these hours alone and together, feeling that only here was Thomas his true self, a giddier, charming, playful and daring self. I found myself more deeply attached to Thomas than ever – he was all I had here in the North, my only friend and companion. I also found myself wising we could have our own home away from Lucille. I felt it would do us both good. Though I felt guilty for even thinking this, I could not help it. Lucille offered no help, no words, no smile, not even her company. All of this she saved for Thomas alone and it truthfully hurt me deeply. I tried on occasions to talk to her, or be in her company but she would rudely request I leave her in peace. 

To my surprise Thomas seemed less confidant at home and I blamed Lucille. He was far more silent, reserved and hesitant in making any decision, whether financial or work. To my annoyance he ran every financial matter past Lucille first. She seemed to control what money was spent and or earned in the house. She accounted for every penny. It was decided under her instruction that our first sum of payment allotted from my old family business was to be spent on ordering more equipment for Thomas’ machine. At this I protested, for the house itself was in desperate need of repair, particularly as December was approaching and the cold, unforgivable Northern weather of England seemed intent on destroying the mansion once and for all. Yet my protests fell on deaf ears.

‘You have little say in this. Besides, we are used to the harsh weather up here, child,’ Lucille snapped over dinner one evening, having, up to this point, ignored me for seven straight days. ‘We know how to adjust – for now we should ensure Thomas’ machine is completed, fully operable and patented as soon as possible.’

I wanted to protest but merely forced an understanding smile and continued eating my dinner. True to my word, I was no longer interested in fighting with Lucille. Knowing what she endured – well, I could not blame her for desire to have control over her life. However, it took effort not to fight with her as she was so unforgivably bitter. Yet as I truly did not see her much, mostly during dinner or just after I made no attempt to draw her into a fight. Truthfully I was happy to discover she had a routine of her own, spending long portions of the day either in the kitchen or up in her room or occasionally early mornings playing the piano. I did not ask what she got up to when alone for so long in her room. Truthfully, I did not want to know. She made no effort to befriend me or talk to me, which I decided upon weeks of reflection, was a remarkable improvement when compared to her initial treatment of me.

The best thing about about the move to the North was being in Thomas' company. Since I moved to Allerdale Hall, Thomas had thought me much about sexual pleasure. I unashamedly enjoyed every moment, eagerly learning, sometimes hesitant, mostly excited to discover I could experience such pleasure by my own or Thomas’ skilled hands. Sometimes his voice alone made my body tremble with anticipation, particularly in the early morning when he would whisper beautiful or lascivious comments in my ear. I would wake most mornings very early - before dawn- with Thomas' lips at my neck, my back, my stomach or even boldly up my thighs or at my womanhood, stroking, licking or kissing my outer lips until I woke up. I looked forward to being woken up by him predawn for cuddles, talk or love making. There are, after all, far worse days to start the day.

One particular morning I was awake before him, getting dressed by a solitary candle as quickly and quietly as possible. I smiled as I watched him sleep, hair tousled, the occasional snore - a sight I was rarely privileged to most mornings as he was usually awake before me, even though he slept well after I did. He often worked late into the night and would crawl, exhausted into bed beside me, sometimes after a quick wash, and hold me close before he dozed off. I did not hear him come to bed last night so I guessed it was another late night for him. My sleeping pattern had recently become erratic. I either slept in too late or woke to early and felt a near-constant fatigue.

Yawning I took one look at him before making my way downstairs to the kitchen. Allerdale Hall still unsettled me, particularly during the darkness so I walked quickly, trying to think of nothing else but my day ahead. I reached the kitchen and started making breakfast, lost in my own thoughts.

I had planned to go to the nearest town today and purchase some essentials for the house. I desperately needed a little excursion from Allerdale Hall. The house was so suffocating, that as of late I found it hard to think straight, eat right or even sleep properly. Unfortunately, this meant I had to spend time practically begging Lucille to fund my little trip. In the end, I argued we needed to vitally stock up on Winter supplies, before any treacherous weather conditions kept us indoors for too long. In the end she agreed, and last night she begrudgingly gave me a small purse filled with money for my trip – money, which I was dying to point out, that was rightfully mine to begin with. A fact I was too tired to even argue with her over.

‘All set then darling?’ a sleepy voice called out quietly down the kitchen corridor, causing me to drop my mug of tea at once. It shattered into pieces, the noise echoing around the usual quiet kitchen. Thomas was there in an instant, sleepiness gone as he bent down and helped me pick up the shattered remains. ‘I’m sorry. Did I startle you?’

I nodded, aware my hands were shaking slightly as I helped him pick up the shattered remains. My mind had been far afield thinking of the appointments I had planned for the next few days. Once the mess was cleaned up, I went to make Thomas some coffee. ‘Sleep alright?’ Thomas asked, eyeing me cautiously as he sat by the counter top. He wore his heavy dark robe, loosely tied and had dark circles under his eyes.

‘Yes, fine – you just caught me off guard,’ I answered, sitting opposite him. ‘You look tired. You should go back to bed and get a few more hours sleep, darling.’

‘And miss waving my wife off? I wouldn’t dream of it,’ He reached forward and snagged a slice of toast from my plate. ‘What – no fight this morning?’ Thomas asked coyly, munching my toast.

I shrugged. ‘Not hungry, and I always say you should eat more’ I answered truthfully as I stood up. ‘Besides I should really get going – Finley will be waiting to help me out front with my luggage by now.’

As I leaned in to peck Thomas cheek, he slyly turned so I caught him full on the lips, his arms wrapped around my waist as he peppered my face in kisses. ‘A few minutes won’t make that much difference, surely. Did you sleep any better last night? You were tossing and turning often – nightmares again?’

I kissed him lightly and pushing him away once done. Thomas looked crestfallen, ‘I’ve always had an odd sleeping pattern – don’t fret. And no, no nightmares, dear love’ I kissed his nose, which I discovered always made him smile. ‘I’ll be back in two days,’ I answered calmly, trying to keep my tone positive. ‘An early start means an early arrival,’ I answered, ‘So yes, I must go now.’

Thomas walked me down the long hallway and across the foyer towards the door. ‘Are you sure you can go alone?’ he asked, his tone full of concern. ‘I can still go with you. I pack light and - ’

‘Thomas, we’ve been through this,’ I said, with slight impatience. ‘You need to stay here. The mines, the machines, all the deliveries are in your name and under your control. And Lucille…’ my voice trailed off. Lucille had feigned a rather ‘worrisome’ (and in my opinion, very sudden) cough that rapidly dissolved into a sore throat that was so bad she refused to eat for the last few days. She had amazingly managed to beg Thomas to stay by her side instead of leaving her alone. ‘Lucille is ill,’ I added unconvincingly. ‘She needs you. And I won’t be alone. Finley’s youngest daughter has offered to be my guide and maid when I arrive.’

Thomas bit his lip. ‘I hate sending you off alone. Especially when you seem so peaky – fatigue could be a sign of so many things -’

‘Thomas, don’t worry. I’m tired because I’ve been so busy; cleaning this massive place, organising my new things and arranging matters by post back and forth in London’ I said, trying to convince him. ‘Don’t fret. I’ll be fine. I have Finley’s daughter, and a coachman for company, not to mention the endless items I have to buy to keep me busy. I like to keep busy. I offered to do this trip after all. I want to help here as much as I can.’

‘Yes, I know and I love you for that so I realise how futile it would be to argue with you. I just worry,’ he sighed, clearly giving up arguing with me. ‘So, you have the list?’ Thomas asked, as though double-checking I was set for my first day of school. He even looked worried to be waving me off. I felt a rush of affection towards him for he was always so concerned for my welfare. ‘And the money too?’

I nodded as he helped me put on my coat followed by my hat and scarf. The doors were already open and Finley was dragging my luggage towards the coach. The sky was dark, but lightening slightly from dark inky black to a subtle navy and further in the distance, a lighter morning blue sky was slightly discernible, though a bitter cold wind blew through the house. I shivered involuntarily, a wave of exhaustion washing over me once more, despite my eight hours sleep last night.

‘Are you sure you are alright?’ Thomas asked, walking me to the carriage. His voice sounded oddly distorted in the wind. He helped me up the step and stood at the open door as I sat in the carriage. My lower back twinged with an unexpected shot of pain but I tried to ignore it. I greeted Finley’s daughter who seemed sleepy yet offered a friendly smile which I returned to where she sat beside me. ‘You seem a little off, darling,’ Thomas continued. ‘Are you sure you want to do this today? You look quite peaky too. Are you sure you are able to - ’

I smiled and kissed Thomas with a sudden ferocity, immediately silencing him. Finley’s daughter watched us with an embarrassed blush on her youthful cheeks. She grinned shyly at Thomas before turning away and looking out the opposite window. ‘I am fine,’ I answered. ‘Now get inside before you catch your death.’

‘I love you, Jojo,’ he said simply, dazzling blue eyes searching me over, as usual making me feel exposed.  ‘Be safe, keep warm, look after yourself.’

‘I love you Thomas,’ I answered. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

 

 

*******

 

 

The two days went by quickly. With Finley’s daughter, Sarah, I managed to obtain everything on the list to sustain Allerdale Hall winters supplies. By the second day I even I had enough money left over to give her a bonus for her help.

‘Did you enjoy yourself, Mrs Sharpe?’ she asked politely as we pulled up at Allerdale Hall drive two days later.

I barely heard her. I was beyond eager to get indoors and talk to Thomas, alone. ‘Mmm?’ I asked.

Sarah laughed as the carriage stopped completely. I hurriedly stepped out of the carriage, only Thomas on my mind. In my hurry I collided into the coachman who was undoubtedly on his way to open my door. My small beaded bag fell to the ground and items fell out in complete disarray. The coachman helped me gather them quickly.

‘So clumsy,’ I babbled, trying to gather the items quickly. ‘I guess the long journey has me tired. Thomas has paid you handsomely in advance, I hope, for all your help?’

‘Not at all, Mrs Sharpe. And yes, indeed 'e did - good man you got there. I – wait, are you sick, madam?’ he asked, idly holding a small bottle of amber liquid with a Doctor’s label placed across it. ‘Sarah said you was unwell this morning. Should I fetch Mr Sharpe to 'elp you in?’

‘Nonsense,’ I answered rather abruptly in a cold tone. ‘Travelling has worn me down, I’m afraid. I’m not a true northerner like you, after all.’ I snatched it from him quickly whilst forcing a smile just as I heard my voice being called from the oak wooden doors.

Thomas stood there at the doors of Allerdale Hall with a welcoming smile on his face, his blue eyes lit up as they caught sight of me. I felt a flood of relief, placing the small bottle back in my bag before running to him. He held his arms wide for me and enveloped me in a tight embrace. ‘I missed you so much,’ he muttered into my hair before kissing the top of my head.

‘Oh Thomas, I missed you too,’ I cried out, muffled by his frame. ‘I – I need to tell you something,’ I began to explain. My voice shook slightly as I stepped back from him. His eyes looked over me concerned, his brows knotted as I heard footsteps approach across the foyer of the mansion. ‘Alone,’ I pleaded, my eyes filling suddenly.

‘Ah, Josephine,’ Lucille’s voice rang out clear as she approached Thomas. ‘About time you returned. I trust you got everything?’

‘Lucille,’ I said, exasperated as I looked her over in annoyance. ‘Thomas and I were talking.’

‘I see,’ she said, her dark eyes lingering on my own teared filled ones. ‘You told her then, Thomas?’

I looked between Thomas and Lucille in confusion, my own news temporarily forgotten. ‘Told me what?’ I asked.

Thomas gripped my hand lightly and began to walk me indoors. Lucille followed, looking miraculously healthy and restored.

‘Thomas,’ I demanded, stopping in the foyer and cutting in front of him. I stared into his blue eyes and saw a flicker of fear. ‘Tell me what has happened, now.’

He paused, his eyes flickered to Lucille and then back to me. ‘We had news yesterday from London,’ Thomas said quietly. ‘Henry’s awake. He’s suddenly lucid – the doctors have no idea why or how. But he wants to see you immediately.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be monsters...
> 
> Reader discretion is advised for this chapter as it depicts themes of rape/non-consensual acts, graphic birth, and overall, dark and difficult thoughts surrounding isolation and abandonment issues.

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

No, I had not heard correctly. Henry could not be awake. And if he was awake, he did not want me surely? Not right now … not like this.

I felt faint as though the floor itself was giving way. I could not think straight. My mind was oddly buzzing as though a wasps hive was nearby.

‘Darling, are you alright?’ Thomas asked, instinctively stepping forward as Lucille watched on expressionless. Her cold eyes seemed unconcerned by my reaction. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’

I shook my head, trying to drown out that incessant buzzing. ‘Henry?’ I piped up, my eyes darting to Thomas’. I felt bereft – my very breath was hard to come by. ‘He - he wants to see m-me? Why?’

‘He’s your brother,’ Lucille said calmly, sneering over Thomas’ shoulder. ‘Is that not explanation enough? He recently awoke and wishes to speak to you.’

‘But I – I can’t – not now’ I babbled suddenly backing away from Lucille and Thomas.

‘There’s no need for panic,’ Lucille drawled as her face twitched. Her eyes sparkled as though momentarily happy by my evident look of despair. ‘I shall make us some tea. It may calm you – you do look unwell. Long journeys can have that effect. Then we shall sit together and talk about the arrangements.’

I stepped back even further, clutching my middle and suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. ‘NO!’ I shrieked. ‘I won’t. He can’t make me - ’

‘What on Earth is the matter with this girl, Thomas?’ Lucille asked, eyeing me suspiciously. 'She is truly a crazed one.'

‘She must be ill,’ Thomas blurted his eyes scanning over by body. 

‘No, no, no, no,’ I continued to murmur all the while, backing away from Thomas as he stepped towards me. ‘I’m – I’m …’ my voice trailed off.

‘Are you ill, darling?’ Thomas asked kindly, reaching for my hand. I felt tears spring from my eyes. ‘Oh dear, are you to be sick again? The driver did inform me that you were unwell and had needed to stop once or twice along the way back. Come now, it’ll be alright with some bed and rest.’

My vision narrowed further, my knees buckled. I fell. 

I remembered nothing more than being captured in a warm embrace of a tall handsome, but slightly panicked looking man. ‘LUCILLE!’ he shouted quickly. ‘I think - ’

 

 

***

 

_I was tired. It was dark. I did not know how much time had passed here. Days slipped away in fear, anxiety and dread. I only knew that I was alone here. I would be alone forever more. No one was left. I was in permanent freefall with no one to care whether I lived or died in this dismal place. They all seemed left one by one when I started to show. Only one of my regulars remained to visit me. Nevertheless, this made me feel more alone than ever for he used me for his own pleasure. I was only a mere prop in his eyes. I was in mind, body and heart alone without love or someone to love._

_So alone._

_Horribly alone._

_Although perhaps technically, or more precisely, medically speaking, there may be those who could argue that I was not completely alone. Not right now, at least._

 

_My loneliness was subject to scrutiny as evident by my ripening middle. And thus, technically, I was arguably not alone. My bump was the only measurement I had of time in this dismal place. It was a fruit ripening, oddly attached to my body – forever growing. Yet I felt detached from it. I purposefully tried to ignore it, rarely touching it. Occasionally I would stare at it, feel the babe beneath the skin squirm, kick and stretch. Yet I was unable to soothe it – not that I tried very hard to. My regular visitor touched it once or twice, by accident. In the end, he was so disgusted he insisted on seeking his pleasure from another angle. I felt hideous. Diseased. Afflicted._

_I was unable to accept what was happening to me – to this unborn creature within me. I watched it grow bigger – like a parasite feeding off my body’s remaining strength – until, I realised ominously one day, it would ultimately consume me._

_More time passed - until one day I no longer saw my feet. My breasts too were so painful – so swollen and tender and, at times, especially in the last few days, they wept. My back was always sore. I paced my cell for a brief period, but as I grew bigger, my walk became a waddle and my feet became too swelled and hurt. My self-hatred grew worse. Each day was a constant struggle. I was in constant discomfort or pain. I had no distractions bar my daily visitor…he made me cry more, struggle in vain and finally beg for mercy. He too eventually no longer wished to see me or run his hands along my body as he once did. Perhaps because he was so rough that I now could no longer stand it and would cry out or weep at his rough touches. Physically, my body needed to be soothed. Yet he would barely look at me know. Upon his last visit he was so disgusted by my changing appearance, I had to pleasure him on my knees with only my mouth._

_No inmates or visitors visited me in the last week or two before birth. I was now solely confined to my room, with only my thoughts and my bulging middle for company. In that isolation I found the only solace I could – in my child, in myself._

_I began, almost hesitantly to rub my bump or pat it when the baby squirmed or suddenly moved. I smiled slowly when I felt this. A secret affection began to grow between us. Each kick was a reminder to stay strong for I was not alone. This parasite – no, this babe, /my/ baby, was all I had in the world to stop me from freefalling. I suddenly found myself hopeful. This was a new beginning, my anchor, my purpose. Sometimes I caught myself singing to my unborn baby quietly as though subtly trying to make it move again. It nearly always worked. I began to see it as my only link to sanity, to pureness, to redemption and happiness. This innocent babe had no one but me. I would not fail it._

_For all this I still cried frequently. Reality was constantly around me – a constant reminder of my entrapment. I was stuck here, unable to free myself or my child. I screamed occasionally for help. All were a waste of energy and time._

_One morning – or night, when all was quiet about me I felt an odd trickle between my thighs, a heated rush of liquid. I tried to ignore this and what it meant. In this gloomy cell I was unable to see clearly but only feel the damp sensation trickle downwards over my legs. I closed my eyes in vain, clutching my rounded belly and dreading what was to come. It seems I was to give birth here too. ‘I need more time, little one – to get us out of here’ I whimpered, settling against the wall._

_The pain began to come closer together. I could no longer sleep in between it or find peace by walking._

_Eventually, my breath seemed to come in short bursts of desperate expulsion and inhalation of air as sheer excruciating pain radiated throughout my being. My moans turned to screams as I tried to find a position to ease the dreadful contractions. Sitting, standing, or pacing the floors did nothing to ease the horrific pain now._

_Yet in the midst of this, the door of my now padded cell opened._

_Quickly swiping my damp hair from my forehead, I glanced up pleading whoever it was to help me. I saw two people enter the room, one of whom carried a lantern. I watched as they shut the door behind them._

_I cried out again, struggling to focus and spreading my legs as I felt the need and desire to bear down and push. I pleaded again but both men ignored my cries and simply sat there and stared through the eerie candle gloom._

_I was crying, tears of panic, fear and desperation. What was to happen to me - to the - my - baby?! Was it normal to feel such pain?  Would I die from this - would the baby?_

_“PLEASE!” I cried out clutching my middle as another contraction hit._

_My belly was now hard, swollen and taut. I puffed and panted as my legs shook. I was partially leaned up against the corner of the room, gripping the padded wall so desperately that my nails seemed to sink into the wall. I pushed and pushed until I felt something move and pass between my legs. I cried out again, louder, nearly ripping my throat._

_One of the men, stepped closer to me, watching me with a blank unreadable expression. He carried the lantern before him, crouching down to watch as the babe emerged between my legs. For a brief moment I reached to him, hoping he would hold my hand and offer me that simple comfort. In that second I cried for my mother, my sister or indeed anyone to come to me. But I couldn’t reach his hand and he made no attempt to hold mine._

_I was about to plead for help when another ripple of pain washed over me and I had to push again – this time panicked and urgent to expel the source of pain from me. I pushed and pushed all the while screaming for help, for god, for anyone to come and save me - to help me. No one did._

_Finally, a soft cry filled the cell; the unmistakable cry of a new-born babe as it adjusted to the world. My baby._

_The other man finally stepped closer, kneeling between my legs rather abruptly, pulling briefly a shiny scissors’ from his breast pocket. I heard a sharp snap, more cries, and felt a rough tug from my middle. He then stood up quickly, wrapping the flailing, screaming baby in a cotton blanket in his arms. My heart ached unexpectedly at the sight. I struggled to move but my legs were shaking. Why was he taking a part of me? Why was he taking what was mine?_

_“Please – let me see…my baby” I begged in a parched whisper, feeling horribly empty and small, despite my still too large middle and my aching body. My arms feebly attempted to reach for the bundle.“Please. My baby – let me see.”_

_The man looked at me coldly, trying to soothe the bundle in his arms by rocking it._

_Another pain radiated throughout my being and I had another urge to push again. I bared down again feeling rawer this time, as though I were tearing below. I wailed out desperately confused and still pleading for my baby to be placed in my arms. “Let me see my baby! PLEASE! PLEASE!” I cried out, as I pushed again._

_I pushed without thought, roughly and without pause until I felt a blinding white pain that seemed to nearly choke the very life out of me. I shrieked out, but darkness soon took me and I knew no more…_

***

  

 "Josephine wake up!" a voice cried, yet it sounded far away. It was soft, deep and familiar. However, it also had a clear panicked tone ringing through it. "Come on now, darling. PLEASE!"

 

 

 

 


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains graphic mentions of violence (but its in relation to Lucille so its probably not that great of a surprise). Nevertheless, please proceed with caution. 
> 
> Also, please excuse my absence. I am so sorry but life got complicated in a weird way. I needed a break to re-charge my batteries so to speak
> 
> Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Twenty-Six

**_Thomas’ POV_ **

 

Josephine had lapsed into a fever. Unsurprising really, or at least Lucille believed it to be so.

Lucille explained to me that it was inevitable. ‘Only the strong can live here,’ she explained rather abruptly with her usual steadfast cold blank expression as she watched Jo rattle and sleep restlessly in bed. We were both now watching over Josephine as she slept in my – our – bedroom. A candle flickered on the far dresser. The fire was also lighting but growing small and faint, throwing only a low dim light across the room and making Lucille look eerily haggard and drawn as though she were merely a dressed skeleton with dark eyes and dark lank, long hair. ‘The weak cannot adjust to the rougher climate of these northern parts.’

I merely nodded, eyes now back to the low dim flames of the fire as though transfixed by the dance and colours. I had been mostly silent since Josephine left. Now that she had returned so sick and feverish, I was even more quiet. Lucille had barely noticed as I was predominately quiet alone with her most of the time. Lucille was my companion, yes, but my only companion for so long. I only ever had her praise, her affection and love. Outside of our private world, my encounters with any other people that took place out of her sight were always brief. For instance, in boarding schools as a child, in pre-arranged meetings of business, or with affluent family's for connections and with the ultimate aim of profiting from them. Here, in such encounters I was charming, kind, witty and sometimes entertaining, but it was only Lucille who knew my pensive side, my troubled side. That was until I met Josephine who enjoyed my charm, my wit, my pensive side … though perhaps not my troubles, not yet. And in return Jo had asked for nothing from me. She did not use me. Arguably, she was the only soul I encountered who had never used me. She did not beg for my love or for my skills to beguile and enchant. Only the Josephine had ever let me express self as good. I sighed watching over my troubled wife, wishing desperately she would wake.

I had caught Josephine in my arms before she fell over two days ago, trying desperately to comfort her and jolt her awake immediately. It was to no avail. She spent the following days slipping in and out of consciousness, battling fever, sweats, both hot and cold. Possibly it was the flu. The carriage driver who had watched over Jo on her journey to the nearby town along with his daughter, who kept Josephine company, admitted that on the journey home, Jo was unwell. He had stopped the carriage twice to allow her to step outside to be sick and spent most of the journey rattling with chills despite the many layers of blankets she was provided with.

Jo's pale skin was still clammy as I looked at her, and she was shivering underneath her blankets again. Occasionally she would mumble in her sleep but I couldn’t make out what she said.

‘Maybe it’s time we call a doctor, Lucille,’ I suggested calmly, my voice soft as I tried not to disturb Jo’s much needed rest. I tucked the layers of blankets higher up around her to ensure she was warm. ‘It’s been over two days.’

‘Nonsense Thomas,’ Lucille said, sitting aside the bed in a dark velvet high back armchair that made her seem both taller and slimmer than usual. Her eyes cast over Jo in that same bored way it had any time she watched over her the last two days. Lucille wore a simple long sleeved, high collared black dress. A ruby fell from a pale gold chain, the necklace resting against her breasts. ‘She got this fever on her travels,’ Lucille rattled on, her voice now tinged with slight bitterness. ‘She is such a weak thing. I mean, for heaven’s sake even the frailest of mutts can adjust to this weather.’

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. ‘She’s barely stayed awake long enough to eat a few spoonsful of soup or for a sip of water,’ I answered in a force calm, my concerned gaze falling to the restless Jo once more. I touched her forehead with the back of my hand. It was still very hot, though perhaps not as warm as before. Her temperature may be going down but it had not completely broken. _Did she need more time to rest now that her temperature was going down or did she need a doctor?_ I thought panicking slightly. Afterall I was so unused of being in charge. ‘If she goes on like this much longer she will – she could …’ my voice trailed off as I lapsed into the worst thoughts about Jo’s fate.

‘Pitiable creature,’ Lucille spat coldly, eyes falling on Josephine’s face with annoyance before playing with her ruby stoned necklace. It made her eyes reflect the colour of the red stone. This was followed by a malicious smile which crept slowly into her face, making her stone features seem even more unnatural. She looked now like a grotesquely smiling stone gargoyle with a hint of red in her eyes. ‘Your wife was the runt of the litter Thomas – that’s all she remains. We should drown the bitch for being the weakest - ’

‘Lucille, stop it!’ I barked suddenly, my eyes wide with anger and admittedly a little fear though I did not confess it aloud. _Was she always this callous?_ I thought to myself, seeing only red in her eyes, but no warmth in them or concern. ‘This is no time for games.’

‘I’m not playing games, little brother,’ she said assuredly, the hideous smile now flashing in my direction. For a moment, I was unable to look away. I became lost in memories, feeling anxious and scared, like a lost little boy. Her tone was utterly sincere and it made it all the scarier.

Everything was so simple in her mind. Things were kept for the use they provided us. This included heirlooms until they could be sold off for their monetary value, the essential staff that cleaned, or, on occasion cooked for us, and any friends who were only ever briefly made for the connections they provided us with. Finally, love – love she kept for me alone. Lucille’s version of love and loving at the least, which was summed up in that hideous smile. Monstrous love that stemmed from possession, from obsession and from fear. Our love was built on isolation, we only ever had each other and what sweetness and poison that curse had been. For Lucille’s cruel streak ensured we would only ever preserve our love for each other and no-one else. Lucille’s love was possession, control - complete and ruthless control. She liked control of me, her finest possession and had done so for as long as I could remember.

As I let the silence wash over us. I suddenly thought now of how Lucille had killed her first creature at the age of eight– a small black kitten given to me by my then Nanny. For days after receiving the beautiful creature I would roam the house with it, playing with it, trying to teach it tricks and in doing so, neglected my sole playmate, Lucille. One day, it went missing. Unable to ask my parents for help as they were in their usual brawling sessions, I wandered about the house grief-stricken and calling the kittens name. Finally, I reached the attic and slowly turned the door, knowing and dreading what was causing its yelps and hisses if distress. Soundlessly I opened the door and saw Lucille holding the small gold scissors from her sewing kit, whilst her other hand held the cat by its tail. It continued to hiss furiously but before I could even yell for her to stop Lucille had slit the kittens throat. I remember screaming and running from the room, finally hiding in a cupboard on the first floor. I locked myself in and covered my ears to block the kittens remembered hissing swimming in my ears, to block the noise of Lucille laughing gaily as she looked at me delighted to have killed the cat. I hid for two days until the Nanny returned from her days off and found me dirty, scared, and crying in my own filth. Lucille claimed the cat ran away and said I dreamed the rest. She even showed me the alleged scene where I 'witnessed' it. There was no kitten there, dead or alive, no trace at all of the little animal. Her golden scissors was immaculately clean and the there was blood anywhere. She said it with such conviction, that I inevitably agreed with Lucille. Lucille was my only friend, she would never hurt me. And I did regularly suffer bad dreams as a boy. Soon I was thoroughly convinced that I did dream the whole thing and that the cat did run away. However a year later I found a little red ribbon beneath Lucille's bed - the exact shade and size I had tied around the kittens neck, even the little silver bell was attached...Scared though I was, I convinced myself it must have fallen lose from the cats throat.

As I grew older, I perhaps deep down knew the truth about the kitten. Lucille always had a streak of control mixed with cruelty. This was evident in other things. She had killed creatures in cold blood, everything from chickens, curious foxes, wandering badgers, once to my complete bafflement she found and killed a deer, a great stag, which she needed help to bring back to the house. She even, I had reason to believe, mercilessly killed dogs, which she could not stand the mere sight of but I always loved with great excitement. I always wanted one, but dare not bring it to the house. Openly in the kitchen she would skin her kills before me.

Now as Lucille sat near me, her eyes cold, lips twisted in that terrifying smile. Her pale, slight hands were clutched on her lap. I realised that before me was a deceivingly innocent slight woman. I barely slept these last few days, save an hour or two on the couch in Jo’s room. Yet Lucille was well-rested, dare I say even cheery since Josephine came home so ill. Yet I kept thinking of Lucille and that cat – perhaps, had I been braver and told what Lucille did then, things would not be the way they are now. When Lucille were asleep in the attic on the early mornings I would go into the bed with Jo and try to warm her with my body if she got too cold. Occasionally, in these utterly private and intimate moments, Jo would murmur my name in a fever dream, making me smile, hold her hand or body tighter. I could not leave Lucille alone with Jo unsupervised, of that I was sure.

‘You – you would wish Josephine dead now or to suffer?’ I asked Lucille. My eyes filled uncontrollably. I stood up to add more wood to the fire grate trying to hide my face. I hated this. I hated this house without Jo.

‘I wish to leave nature take its course,’ Lucille said simply, her voice flat, emotionless. ‘The weak die every day and death takes the young and old.’

For a moment, I was too hurt to speak. I began stirring the fresh logs with the iron poker until they caught flame and started to burn. ‘Henry awaits our response, we should really send one soon before he sends a representative here to the house,’ I answered in forced calm, trying to keep to business. ‘If Henry knows how ill Josephine is, he may question the entire legitimacy of the wedding. For Heaven’s sake, I would be seen to marry a mentally unstable woman, who also was in ill health. If it goes to court, Henry will take every penny back from us.’

Lucille rolled her eyes slowly. ‘Thomas, do not worry. Things will work out. If Jo cannot go to Henry, then I shall go quite soon in her place. It will help things move along much faster.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked as I turned around to look at her, setting the poker aside on its holder. I avoided her eyes, something I had been doing more frequently since Josephine left.

‘Thomas, you are really not as smart as everyone else seems to think. Unlike you, I’ve used the last few days to form a plan. I think it will work.’

I looked at her warily but nodded for her to continue.

‘Henry is still in hospital; he merely wants to question and perhaps even intimidate his sister,’ Lucille explained, eyes now on the ruby stone again. She spoke with a hint of irritation like all she was saying was completely obvious or simple. ‘He wants her to change her mind, break the marriage. He wants her back under his control and his money back too. Clearly Josephine cannot leave here anytime soon, so I will go for her.’

‘Why you?’ I breathed, my eyes falling protectively to Josephine and feeling my heart twist painfully at what I was about to say ‘Shouldn’t I be the one to go?’

‘No,’ Lucille explained. ‘We need to play this out correctly. You must be seen to be by your wife’s side if she is ill. It will suggest just how devoted you are to her. I will go, of course I can go with an escort to keep things cordial and respectful for now. Young Edward from town will do – he has helped escort me before and gets paid well enough.’

‘But what will you say?’ I asked, completely thrown Lucille had put great thought into this.

‘The truth, or the truth that concerns him.’ Lucille answered. ‘We say you are married happily. We say Josephine is unwell but you are attending her. We inform him that she no longer wants to contact or see him ever again and that henceforth Henry signs all property, trusts and other assets to you Thomas or else we threaten to inform the police that he tried to take your life and Josephine’s – yes!’ she balked at the look on my face. ‘This could work well, Thomas. That’s why you married her right away and took her to Allerdale Hall – for your beloved’s safety.’

‘But that’s not what happened. I broke into his property!’ I began to ask, panic coursing through my very veins. This was too risky, for both Jojo and myself. He had the power to incriminate us both if he wanted to. ‘Lucille you could get hurt. I should go if anyone must truly go at all.’

‘Thomas, just listen, you stupid boy! This story is better than the truth!’ Lucille exclaimed a wild look in her eyes. ‘After all, he doesn’t remember that night, he was too drunk. But he did threaten Jo’s life, yes?’

I nodded feeling nauseous at the memory of the night, of the blood, of Henry’s lifeless body. I wanted to hid somewhere. ‘He did, but only because she was the only weapon to use. I wanted him to sign the papers over to us there and then,’ I lied quickly. ‘But Josephine was present, he held a kitchen knife to her throat. I tried to stop it but - ’

‘Then it matters that I be the one to go!’ she snapped in an irritated manner. ‘Henry may be triggered by your face alone to remember that night. If I relate what happened to him, then he never need know the truth. Don’t you see how easy this is? Even the police statement from that night match your version of events, not his!’

‘But this is lying, Lou,’ I explained, unable to shake the gravity of this decision. ‘If this story escalates Henry could go to jail!’

Lucille stood up and immediately cut me off with a raised hand. ‘Thomas, this is the truth – at least our version of it. He did threaten Josephine with a knife. Do you think you were next or was he at that point merely growing hungry and about to cut a slice of bread, Thomas? No, we play with fire here if we must. And if he really cannot remember that night and still will not sign over the remaining assets then I’ll deal with him another way.’

‘You can’t!’ I cried aghast. ‘The man is in hospital, Lucille. He is well guarded - ’

Lucille sighed and looked at Thomas as though he were a dim child who could not see the obvious answer laid out before him once again.  ‘Thomas the buffoon cries out for a wife. I can fill that role briefly and easily if needs be. One way or the other their money will be ours.’

‘Lucille!’ I cried, following her out of the room. I glanced at Jo as I left but her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling slowly as though she were in a deep sleep.

‘Thomas, must I spell it out for you?’ Lucille said, her eyes alight with pleasure now. ‘Josephine may soon die when I’m away. If not I’ll work on Henry – don’t you see, our troubles are finally over. We will have that fortune one way or the other.’

‘The man thinks I tried to kill him!’ I cried, finally coming to my sense as I entered the dark corridor, my arm reaching out to grab her shoulder and calm her. She often verged on hysteria and it took much effort to calm her down.

‘I doubt he even remembers it, he did not mention it in the letter.’ Lucille said simply with a shrug, barely registering my grip on her ‘No, I should think he doesn’t or the police would have arrived by now. He is simply irate his sister ran off to get married and made a claim on the fortune. I can talk to him. You seem him on the first day, he liked me. I can butter him up – speed up his recovery in the hospital, shower him with affection. He will never remember what you did, little brother. I will take care of this problem.’

I saw the steely, unafraid slightly menacing look in her eyes I had seen so many times as boy. The look she had when she took the blade to the throat of the cat. The look that burned through her eyes when she drove the axe repeatedly through our own mother, the look she had when she killed Enola’s dog. There was no stopping Lucille now. I let her go. She kissed me gently, her cold lips sending a thrill through me that had more to do with disgust than love.

‘We are so close to having what we always wanted.’ She said, almost breathless with excitement. ‘This house restored, for you and me. Always together. Never apart’

‘Always together.’ I repeated slowly with a solemn nod, tears filling my eyes once again but this time unchecked. ‘Never apart.’

 

***

 

Lucille left as dawn broke the following morning and truthfully, it was with a sense of relief I watched her go. I loved her of course I did. She saved me, guarded me and kept me safe all these long years. But she also frightened me. I did not tell her that Jo’s fever was steadily going down, or that last night Jo awoke parched with thirst and then slowly ate a full bowl of broth.

By that afternoon Jo was alert, eating and with very little help manged to bathe and the servant girl cleaned the room and replaced the sheets with fresh ones. All in all, by 7 p.m. Jo’s colour had returned and so had her voice. She was delighted to be up and about again and even seemed even more delighted that Lucille was gone for a few days and that we were alone in the house. Admittedly, I confessed to her Lucille was gone to visit Henry, but this too didn’t upset her. She agreed that Lucille may help quench any further escalating hostilities between us as, like Lucille, she understood Henry could be swayed easily by the opposite sex.

However, our dinner at the table downstairs exhausted her and she was fit for bed soon after. I joined her, equally exhausted, though I confess a little excited too to have Jojo so well and the house to ourselves.

I smiled delightedly as I watched her undress that evening, slipping off her plain lilac gown she insisted on wearing to join me at the dinner table. I could not help but stare at her beautiful body. The scars of course were the most striking feature but they were fading, though they would never truly go away.

_Ah, such beauty before me! Her long dark red ringlets she choose to leave down all day – even through dinner and it thrilled me to watch them bounce around her face, or watch her run her hands through her hair to push the wild curls from her face. How I longed to touch them!_

_But ah, so too had I wished to touch her breasts. So confined they were in that tight lilac gown, almost pushing out of the fabric. And she had forgone the usual corset at dinner, complaining she was not yet well enough to be so restrained. I agreed. After all, it was only her and I in the house. So her breasts were unrestrained and seemingly fuller in her dress. The material of the gown was light so that in the cold kitchen her nipples were visible, hard against the fabric that made me squirm uncomfortably in my seat as I felt myself harden. I watched her undress with a blissful look on my face. Had her breasts always been so big or had it been so long since I saw her naked? So beautiful they were as they fell free and natural. No, they definitely seemed different, so – so swollen, nipples perk and hard._

I licked my lips as I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her undress. Unable to resist any longer, I pulled her by her hips closer to me. I took one hard nipple into my mouth lavishing my tongue over it, whilst my free hand slowly toyed with the nipples of her other breast. She groaned slowly, yet arched her back pushing her delightfully heavy breasts closer to my face. Switching to her other breast I teased her nipple with my teeth.

‘Thomas,’ she half pleaded, half admonished. ‘I’m very tired – perhaps tomorrow.’

I sighed reluctantly but nodded and started tugging down her dress from her hips. Her eyebrows raised quizzically as she looked at me. ‘Just to help you in bed faster,’ I said, with a boyish wink, tugging the dress off her. She stepped out of it and I pulled her once again closer to me. ‘I was so worried about you, I thought you so ill that I was close to calling a doctor’ I confessed, looking up at her. I tried to keep the fear out of my tone but I knew she could see it in my eyes.

Josephine blushed darkly. ‘Do not worry, darling. I was - unwell but am better now,’ she whispered, running her hands through my hair as I kissed her plush body; shoulders, chest, breasts. Such softness and warmth exuded from her body. It soothed me to touch her naked skin and to kiss it. 'And a doctor calling would have been a waste As you can see, I'm well now' she added with an almost nervous smile.

I slowly continued lavishing her body with affection, kissing her pale breasts, my mouth wondering lower to her soft plump tummy. ‘You do seem better now. Just to be sure, should I explore each and every one of your curves? They are exquisite!’ I confessed, feeling playful, relaxed almost, especially after a few tumultuous days with only Lucille for company. I should kiss every one of your curves better - just to be sure!’

 ‘But I am quite tired, I’m afraid,' she said, her voice soft. She looked tired, but there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was hiding something. 'The last few days, the sickness, the worry of Henry...so much on my mind, Thomas.'

I paused then she leaned down to kiss my lips. ‘I understand,’ I said calmly, stepping up to pull down the fresh covers. I then helped her slip into her nightdress before undressing and slipping into my own nightwear. 'I'm glad you're feeling better. I wonder what it was that made you ill?'

She shrugged as she curled up against me in bed, resting her head against my chest, dark red curls splaying behind her. 'Travelling in the bitter cold - just nausea really and stress. Nothing unique in that.'

'Thank heavens,' I answered, stroking her hair, and kissing the top of her head, 'I really missed you.' She laughed quietly as I ran my hand over her full breasts again.

‘Thomas!’ she chastised but I could hear the humour in her voice. 'You are insatiable! My breaths are not toys!'

‘I can’t help it, darling,’ I answered, whispering against her neck, one of my hands softly stroking her breasts again, teasing her nipples. ‘You seem different somehow, softer … warmer. Utterly irresistible.’

‘Is that so?’ she answered, though her body grew slightly still against me. ‘Well you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to play. I may even have a surprise for you then.’

‘Tease!’ I murmured, feeling my penis grow hard against her back as I lay beside her. I grinded slightly against her, feeling my penis swell slightly more with longing. ‘What is your surprise, Jojo? Did you get it at the village?’ I pleaded, just delighted to be talking to her again, loving the privacy of being completely alone and longing to make love to her.

Josephine laughed in response but said nothing. She pulled the blanket higher around her, snuggled closer to my chest almost nuzzling it but did not move my hand from her breasts.

I was wide awake now though, all thought of sleep had vanished. 'Jojo are you teasing your husband, do you really have a surprise?’

‘Perhaps – wait until tomorrow,’ she said and lapsed into silence once more.

I started to laugh, my hands slowly caressing her breasts with more ardent fervor, squeezing each weighted globe slightly rougher than before so that she involuntarily pushed back against my hardening cock and back, shivering slightly. ‘Come now. I cannot wait! What do mean, Mrs Sharpe?’

‘So stubborn, Thomas,’ she said though her voice were quiet. A little shy almost. She slowly merely captured my hand at her breasts and with a little tug she allowed me to run it down over her belly and rested it on her lower belly. ‘Surprise’ she whispered, her eyes now darting towards mine.

My eyes widened with shock at her gesture and her words which both sank in slowly in my mind. A moment passed before I spoke ‘I – you are with child, my child?’ I blurted out staring incredulously at my hand on her lower belly. It looked the same her belly, slightly puffy perhaps.

She laughed. ‘Yes, the doctor confirmed as much on my trip away. The carriage journey made me awful nauseous. I was sick mostly there and since I got back. But I didn’t dare say a word in front of Lucille. The doctor wishes to see if I go another week or two without bleeding. Then we will be most certain.’

‘How how many bleedings have you missed?’ I found myself asking, unable to tear my gaze from her stomach, imagining it in another few months, stretched, taut and by the end so swollen and heavy. All because of me. I did this. I made her body changed. I impregnated her. I could barely breathe. Of course I wanted this. I wished it every time we made love. Even our attempts to practice safe sex were half-hearted on my part. I pulled out rarely, finding myself unable to stop myself from spilling in her - finding a desperate unconscious need to ensure I came deep within her womb every time we made love - and we made love often. I wanted to. It should come as no surprise really. This was incredible. 

‘Two – almost three,’ she answered, her voice shaking slightly.  So I got her pregnant really within our first week or so of marriage. I found myself growing harder now, my penis swelling and jutting out, brushing against Jojo's hip. I tried to ignore it. Yet the knowledge made me feel so powerful. 

I felt my eyes fill. ‘So, I-I’m to be a father then?’ I whispered almost reverently, my fingertips ghosting over her stomach.

She nodded and I bent my head to place soft kisses on her lower belly, my hands soon stroking the soft skin where my small babe lay within its sweet mother’s womb.

                                                                 

 

 

 


End file.
